


A Mother's Love

by Veni_Vidi_Vixi



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Death, Depression, Infertility, Miscarriage, Multi, OC, Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veni_Vidi_Vixi/pseuds/Veni_Vidi_Vixi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nobody will be able to believe it… That a half dead woman birth a living child." </p><p>A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the universe. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path. It is the fuel that enables a normal person to do the impossible. Even if that person is a 'monster', she will defy the entire entire universe for the sake of that child.</p><p>On hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Another Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd.

# Another Loss

It hurts. It hurts so badly.

Why was there so much blood this time?

Why?!

She thought it would hold this time! That it would stay in! It had been 3 months! That was the second longest one yet!

Why did it have to go? Was she honestly that dreadful? It fell from her like it wanted to go! Like it rather end bloodily than live inside her.

At the back of her mind, she criticises herself for saying ‘it’. It probably had a gender.

It might of been a boy. Beautiful; with golden hair and strong tanned arms and he would have been brave, honest and heroic! Or maybe a little girl? Pretty; with long shining hair and a youthful, untainted face and she would have been kind, gentle and outgoing.

Except it decided to leave her.

Because they all did eventually.

Because she was a monster.

Though her father told her other wise; far many more told her that it was the truth. Her appearance confirmed it. However, she still felt hope. This one had lasted longer than the rest! This one almost wanted to stay with her.

But her hope was dashed once again. Like every other time.

She wept loudly for her lost child, forsaken of life, in a steadily growing pool of blood on a creamy white marble floor.

Her hand maiden gripped her hand comfortably and spoke soothing words to her mistress. The helper knew this was not the first time, nor the last, but she would always comfort her mistress who gave her this job.

She would always help clean up the mess. She would always bury it in the dead ground outside the house. She would always watch as her master would gently lay a false black rose on the mount. She would always follow her mistresses orders.

And for that highly obedient and kind servant woman, the Mistress was truly thankful.

She turned to see the ruin of a body, only the size of a fist, and burst into tears anew.

Such a little thing.

She only wanted to be a mother. She only wanted to hold life in her then raise it up.

But the Norms were cruel. Holding a life seemed impossible for her who has such a disgusting body.

She craved a body like her father’s who bore so many. She craved her father’s presence to comfort her, though she knew it was forbidden. But mostly, she craved a child of her own, born from her own flesh.

Such a little thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first 3 or 4 chapters will be very short as they are more introductory rather than part of the main story.


	2. Hope that Grows

# Hope that Grows

She was scared to feel hope but felt it never the less.

5 months and her belly was beginning to round. She laid naked on her bear fur bed, belly exposed and her good hand soothed the skin lovingly. She almost wanted to name it now.

She smiled ever so slightly; an odd action for her who is usually so down cast.

But she cannot help it!

It is growing and it is staying!

It has lasted 2 months longer than her previously longest record of holding a child in her womb. And that was 4 pregnancies ago. Four failures ago. Four short failures that lasted mere weeks, maybe a month, before her stomach cramped and the bean sized foetus dropped from her. A whole 24 years ago…

Becoming pregnant was physically difficult for her body; made only worse by how few bed mates she had. No one liked her normally because of her job and appearance. They had to be coaxed and then a deal struck where they would gain something great for a single night of unwanted sex.

She didn’t care where they came from, which realm, planet or region, they were all the same to her. A means to a child. Whoever the father turned out to be would be irrelevant once she held her tiny babe on her arms.

Her babe.

Her very own baby.

Who would cry and laugh and keep her company on the cold nights. Such a small thing it will be at first but then it would grow into a cheerful child; one who had only her good points and none of her sorrow or ugliness.

One she could watch play and could teach. She hoped it would take after her father; the man she respected most in the entire universe (though many would disagree with her poor choice of role model). Leave out all of her rotten parts and be replaced by his shiny, pretty parts.

Deep, deep down; she almost wishes it could be tanned with golden hair and shining blue eyes but knows it to be near impossible. Her pale complexion and dark features will probably be passed onto her child.

She almost giggled.

Her child.

The one she was carrying right now.

She sighed softly, lifting her other hand to join the good one and they rubbed her precious cargo inside a thing layer of skin. The hands contrasted horribly in appearance but felt nice to her. Probably because she was used to their differences and feelings.

Her protruding belly made her feel that rare and fleeting emotion that always escaped her grasp. It must have been centuries since she truly felt it. Content and happy. Her smile widened a faction, making her almost smile like a normal person.

Such a small thing now.

But it will grow.

It will live!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you (if anyone actually read this) should be able to tell who the woman is but for ‘suspense’s’ sake, I’m avoiding her name for now.


	3. The Silent Child

# The Silent Child

8 mouths now…

Her baby had grown but not as big as she had expected. When she saw the very few other pregnant women, they were bigger and rounder.

She tried not to worry. Truly she did. It might sense her worry and leave her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it if this one left her too… But she did worry.

The small size was not the only thing that disturbed her greatly. She heard stories, whisperings amongst mothers, ones that must be true if so many spoke of it. She was meant to be craving certain food but she had the same diet as normal. She was meant to feel ill in the morning but so far her mornings had been fine. She was meant to be able to feel her baby kick and move about. Since about 4 months ago…

Yet her baby remained silent and still inside her womb.

She laid a hand on the mound, covered in a thick martial to keep her warm. She was nearly always cold and feared about how her babe would fare in such a cool body. She leant forward a bit, her long black and grey hair dripping forward, and ever so gently whispered.

“Why are you so quiet, my child?…” She closed her eyes. “Why do you not want to move around? Are you not comfortable?…”

Her eyes opened sharply as she suddenly heard the door open. Her hand maiden entered uncalled but carrying a tray, on it was honey tea and various fruits. She bowed her head low, acting humble as ever in her mistress’s presence.

“Mistress, I have brought fresh fruit from Asgard to aid thou and give thy child strength. And tea from Alfheim which is healthy for child birth.” Fruit, trees, flowers and plants did not grow here so were hard to come by, especially fresh.

The Mistress nodded, not smiling but grateful. Her smiles were rare. They had increased when the baby had first shown but were now decreasing again. Such a small thing but the servant had noticed it anyway.

Will the next time she smile be at her child’s birth?

The hand maiden could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will start getting longer and a more proper length from here on out.


	4. Loss of a Life that had never Lived

# Loss of a life that never lived

It had been agony.

Only her most trusted servants, healers and her favourite hand maiden had been allowed in the room.

The child had begun its arrival one day before its due date with her crippling over in pain as her contractions begun. Now only a day later and she had finally pushed it from her womb, finally willingly letting it be free.

However, through her gasping pants of exhaustion and pain, she could hear no crying other than her own. There was no high pitch screaming or the servants congratulating her.

Instead it was quiet.

She lifted her head to see the world standing still, all the helpers frozen and staring at her babe, silently shocked.

And her babe was frozen too.

It’s form was rigid like a corpse and its grey sagging body deformed like a monster. Its malformed chest did not move with new breath and it’s clawed hands did not reach for her. Its eyes were closed, scrunched up as if in pain.

But it wasn’t in pain.

It was dead.

It felt nothing.

Her head fell back as she screamed. It was a heart wrenching cry of pain for a life that never lived.

She should have known! But she ignored all the signs! She ignored the slow growth, the lack of movement and her inability to sense its tiny soul. She had assumed it was because it was inside her own body and she had difficulty sensing her own soul.

She let loose another scream, her body wracking up in sorrow as she tried to express her lost, her emptiness, her pain.

Her babe had inherited only her worst parts. All her ugliness, malformation and rottenness. She doubted that the baby had ever been alive.

Her throat burned and she clawed at herself, weeping in rage. She clawed at her left side; her dead side.

She despised the grey mottled skin that hanged loosely from bones that something pierced her and showed through the weak skin, she despised the blood, clumpy black blood that only bled from that side. She hated her raggedly grey hair, thin and brittle that sprouted from the left side of her skull like weeds. Her milky, blood shot eye that could only cry dirty water.

She hated her ugly side; dead and rotting but still apart of her.

It made her a monster!

It made her different from the other children she grew up with on Asgard. She was a dark, moody being with a terrifying appearance on one side; a stark difference from the beautiful golden children that surrounded her constantly.

Though her other side, her right side in more than one sense, was the perfect image of her beautiful father, pale smooth skin and glossy black hair with bright, emerald eyes, she was still tainted with death.

That was why she was ripped from her loving father’s arms and sent to Jotunheim until she was 16!

That’s why she was then sent to a dead realm to rule over its lifeless soil and stewart over the second hand dead that didn’t deserve Odin’s golden Valhalla.

That’s why she was not allowed to leave this cursed place and see her beloved father! The only person who kissed her on both cheeks and sincerely told her that she was beautiful! All of her! Not just her right side!

He praised her endlessly; she was was his special angel. He never cringed from the corpse like half, never ignored it, never treated it like it was the plague, only loved it and loved her.

In his eyes, she was perfect.

Gorgeous.

Pretty.

Beautiful.

And she loved him for that.

Now she only wanted that for her child.

Instead she laid there bleeding, as her servants restrained her from harming herself farther and healers began to repaired the patches of decayed skin she had ripped off to expose the bloodied muscle underneath, staring at her still born baby.

A boy as well.

A young handsome boy…

Such a little thing…

She let out a gurgled call, begging.

“F-Father!”

However Hela knew he could not hear her from Asgard who sat at the crown of the Yggdrasil tree while she rotted at the bottom in Hel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it was hideously obvious, I was trying to avoid using Hela's name until now as a a bad form of 'suspense'.


	5. Pretty, little dead things

# Pretty, little dead things

Hela had entered a depression.

It was was not abnormal for her to be gloomy and down casted but this depression was different. She neglected her assigned jobs and refused to leave her mansion. Since the still born incident, she had refused to even attempt to bear another child and locked herself away from sight.

Now the unsorted souls were piling up, as she ignored her duty to guide them to the correct part of Hel according to their previous life.

Many beings, mortals and Gods especially, viewed her realm as an ugly, horrible place where only bad things would happen and souls would be tortured eternally. Quite the contrary. Hel was a much divided place.

There were places for good honest people, places for murderers, places for innocent child, places for those who were neither bad or good. And each place awarded or punished the soul accordingly. Though it was usually cold and misty, being on the outskirts of the chilly and beast infested Niflheim, and plant life was impossible due to the dead soil, many were actually content here after a while. Not happy but not sad - many accept this though and try to make the most of it.

Most people had lived average lives which continued into the afterlife. They were given shelter, protected from the dangerous souls and finally able to re-meet any deceased loved ones and know that only more would join them.

Wicked beings usually only suffered here, being burned in flames, sealed in stone statues or left in dark holes for eternity.

That was how Hel worked.

And Hela was the one to judge who went where.

Only now, she didn’t.

And it wasn’t long before Odin noticed the cries of the souls who were begging to be allowed to enter Hel properly. Of course, he was the King and he was busy so he would not go. And what would he do once there? He did not know why Hela didn’t work and did not know of her depression.

He could not send one of his normal servants or heralds for the chance that their soul would never come back. After all, to go to Hel is to die and Hela did not always release her property.

So he would send someone he knew Hela would allow to return, someone who knew Hela and would be able to convince her to take up her duty of stewardess once again. He would send her father, Loki.

Which is why Hela was surprised when her handmaiden informs her that the infamous God was here in Hel and asking to see his daughter, only a month after the still born incident.

After all, he was never allowed to visit Hela without the Allfather’s permission. Though once or twice he had briefly sneaked in, leaving very quickly, afraid and paranoid he would be caught. Though whether it was fear of him being punished or his fear that his daughter would be for his disobedience was unknown. The visits were still nice but unpleasantly short and jittery.

They meet in the garden

Or what would be the garden if anything grew. Instead it was a sea of still black roses - each one unique, with twisting silver stems and emerald thorns and glass petals. In the sunlight they would be beautiful but the sun was rare in this misty land. Water would only bead on the fragile glass flowers before dripping into the dark soil below.

And what was hidden beneath the soil. Beneath every false rose.

The newest crafted rose was right by the door step surrounded by half a dozen others; marked difference from the rest with a golden stem instead of silver.

She stared hard passed that rose and onto the many others in front of her, not even glancing away when her father joins her.

“You have grown more beautiful since my last visit, Hela.” He greeted kindly.

Hela did not respond, her mind too deep in the rose garden and her sad thoughts. Her father was not put off though.

“This is a lovely collection, daughter.” He praised honestly, standing right by her. He was a good foot shorter than the goddess when she occasionally stood up straight. This was not surprising considering her heritage - her ‘mother’, Angrboða, was not from Asgard like her father.

She had disguised herself as an Æsir and through her and Loki’s relationship, Hela and her two older brothers were born. But that beautiful Æsir appearance was revealed to be false soon after Hela was born and Angrboða’s true form was shown to be that of an ugly frost giant. There was a huge scandal that resulted in an uproar, Angrboða’s execution and the three children’s banishment.

Though luckily for Odin, it had given him reason to rid his realm of the monstrous children and an excuse he could give for his grandchildren’s appearances. Frost giants were hideous and so would any offspring - even half frost giant.

Hela was half jotunn, and her looks and height resembled that. She only wished that Loki’s Æsir blood had been stronger and she had been born with a more desirable left side.

“Thank you, father…” She mumbled, hunching over a little more. It was a habit she had picked up in the brief child hood she had lived in Asgard. Her giant, bony height make her stood out so she always hunched her back to appear the same height as the rest of the children. It would also make her long hair fall forward and hang over her face, hiding the imperfections on it. It also helped her fold in on herself to block out any vicious comments or insults.

However her father did not approve of that. She heard the God tsked as she drew herself down to his height but he said nothing about it.

“Why do you use only black roses in this garden? Why not add other plants. I do not understand your choice.” Loki admitted as he examined the closest one to his foot. He would not touch it and never pick one up.

He had done so once and had been promptly kicked from the realm after many cries of hysteria and tearful screams, then unable to enter for 6 months; during which several ghosts haunted him. They moved his chair before he sat down, moaned to keep him awake at night, scared off servants, left blood on the walls and stole his books while he read them.

Personally, Loki only appreciated tricks and pranks when he was not on the receiving end of them.

Plus it had upset him greatly that he had caused his child harm unknowingly. Such a little thing had saddened his only daughter, making him want to fix it and say sorry.

After his daughter finally saw fit to see him and he was desperate to amend his mistake; she surprised him by apologising first and admitting she had over reacted.

However, secretly, this had only worried the trickster more…

“They mean death.”

Loki smiled sadly. “Hela, just because death chose you, does not mean you have to choose it.” He spoke softly, reaching over to her hair. “You can fill your garden with other things.” He tucked a willowy strand of pale grey hair back behind her ear. Both of them knew he meant ‘life’ when he said garden.

His daughter turned to him and he could almost see the tears in her green eyes. It was obvious that the roses or thinking about the roses were upsetting her greatly. “Why let them bother you so?”

Hela closed her eyes with a soft, almost silent sigh. “They are just pretty, little dead things.” She tilted her face down subconsciously. “They are nothing important, father.”

“Why not replace them then, daughter?”

“They are not worth replacing and they bother me not. As I said before father, they are just pretty, little dead things.”

The God knew she was lying, something she had inherited from his nature unfortunately. The answered frustrated Loki as he knew that he could not help Hela unless he knew what pained her. He kept this hidden though and continued talking about other small, unimportant things.

At the end of the visit, with Loki still not bringing up the problem of Hela’s refusal to work, he hugged her and kissed her on both sides.

“Goodbye, my daughter.”

To his surprised, the usually aloft and cold Hela pulled him into another hug.

“Thank you, papa… I love you.”

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders; not disturbed by the boniness or the mottled skin which sagged on the left side.

“I love you too, my baby, my child.” And though Loki was a liar, he had spoken the truth.

Such a little thing but so important to the Goddess.

The next day, without warning or prompt, Hela continues her duty as sorter and stewardess of Hel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that this is before Thor so Loki and everyone still thinks he is from Asgard. My Hela is usually quite cold and down-cast, being gloomy most of the time like in norse myths, rather than marvel. However, she does have a snarky, sarcastic side that she uses to tease and make fun of others. She also enjoys small games. She can be happy when the occasion calls for it. Though her sense of fun isn’t exactly normal.
> 
> You must keep in mind, that Hela is depressed in this chapter. She won’t alway act as unhappy as this throughout the whole fix (though she will usually be a little gloomy unless teasing someone.)


	6. A Prayer

# A Prayer

It can say a lot when a God or Goddess gets on his or her knees and prays to someone else. Usually it says ‘this is an act of desperation or need’ but the need differs on which God or Goddess that the previous God or Goddess is praying to.

When people or Gods pray to Freya, it is usually for love. Whether it is to gain a love of another, or to fall in love with another.

When people or Gods pray to Idunn, it is for eternal youth and life for themselves and/or their loved ones. Something that mortals tend to pray for rather than Gods and Goddesses who were already gifted with the golden apples.

When people or Gods pray to Tyr, it is usually for victory in war. Every being who fights prays for that but only one half of them will ever get it.

When people or Gods pray to Hela, it is usually to be spared or spare a loved one. Death is a frightening concept for mortals who have such short lives and even worst for immortal Gods who believe themselves above it. Of course, she near never listens to such foolish requests.

After all, it is not within her power to just heedlessly bring people back to life. There must be a price. And death, as an inevitable state and an all-powerful universal entity, usually has a high price.

She, once or twice, has allowed a free token to a very precious few because of a past debt, but in reality, that was just a form of advance payment and she did not guarantee a life in return for a kindness. As such Hela was called heartless or monster.

However she did have a heart and she did feel pain when people accused her of otherwise.

And right now, Hela was heart-broken.

The grief-stricken Goddess had finally accepted that naturally conceiving a child in a half dead body was impossible. She had considered shape-shifting but her skills lacked compared to her father’s. Any form she took was still half dead no matter what. Death had a strong grip on her and refused to let go.

Hela had also considered praying to Frigga; the Goddess of motherhood, the All-mother, her grandmother.

But she was reluctant.

When she was growing up in Asgard with Loki, Frigga had been delighted by the idea to finally have another female in the family.

But reality was very different. 

Frigga could not stop her grimacing and flinching every time the monstrous left side came into view, though she did try her earnest. She tried treating Hela as any other young child, failed and then thought it enough because ‘it was the thought that counted.’

Hela disagreed.

It would have been enough if the acceptance was true and genuine; not forced and half finished as mere tolerance.

In the end though, even if physical appearances were set aside, their personalities and dispositions did collide. Frigga was the epitome of kindness, support, comfort and warmth. The half dead woman was gloomy, cold, untrusting and down-casted.

The Goddess could tolerate the motherly Æsir at least (she hated most others naturally because of her bullying) because Frigga did try.

But she would not pray to her. Ever.

It was a matter of pride.

Tolerance was not acceptance. Hela had learnt that the hard way.

So she prayed to another source; one of magic and life rather than just plain motherhood. She prayed to the Yggdrasil tree.

The Yggdrasil tree - not only was it the gigantic cosmic structure that held the nine realms together but it was a great source of powerful, ancient magic and the root of all life in the universe.

There are a few arguments around some aspects of the tree.

Such as it holds the only realms that exist in the universe versus it holds the main realms but other smaller and perhaps lifeless realms exist too outside its branches.

Another one is all magic comes from the tree and sorcerers are just tapping into it and using its power versus sorcerers already have magic in their body but some are able to use Yggdrasil’s magic as well.

And the most famous and debated one; the tree is a conscious entity that can willing change things in the realms versus it is just a mindless force of natural energy and any interference is unintentional and accidental.

Nearly everyone knew and agree on the fact that Yggdrasil is the giver of Life though.

Hela personally never bothered taking part of such meaningless (to her anyway) debates. She was closer to Death than Life so her association with the life giving tree was limited; yet strangely endless at the same time. After all there can be no Death with out Life and no Life without Death.

The Goddess had never prayed to the Yggdrasil tree before; rarely anyone did because rarely was it answer. (Hence the debate on its supposed consciousness.)

But pray she did.

It was truly an act of extreme desperation.

Here, she sat ruling on the cold throne of a dead realm that was tangled in the lowest and darkest roots, and she hoped to somehow be heard by a maybe conscious magical tree?

But Hela ignored her doubt and logic and kneeled before her own throne. Though it was difficult to kneel with a half rotting body that was ill proportioned with long bony legs, Hela managed the descent gracefully though practice and determination. Her handmaiden stood respectfully at the side, ready to be called on should the need arrive.

The Goddess straightened her back, cringing from mild discomfort as it creaked and cracked. She had been slouching too much and hunching her back for nearly her entire life; it made it almost sore to stand at her true height. However, she wanted to show her willingness to be polite and respectful; using the manners that were hammered into her by Frigga until she was cast out of Asgard.

She bowed her head, feeling weird to be in such a humbling position, and tried to keep her back erect. Her left kneel protested slightly at the weight, never really comfortable unless she was lying down with no pressure on the weakened joint.

Hela paused, unsure with what to do with her hands. Should she keep them at her side? Rest them on her knees? Clasp them together like Midgardians liked to do?

She settled with placing her hands on her chest, over her heart. The heart was a symbol of Life.; it might help in the praying.

The woman could feel the sluggish heart beat under the frail, grey skin. It seemed to be ill design the her heart was placed in her dead and decaying half. Maybe that was why she was called heartless or cold-hearted at times?

She waited for a minute, dreamingly feeling the muscle move unsteadily, fighting to survive and continue pumping blood and life around the rest of her. Hela’s lips twitched as if she might smile.

It was a ‘Proof of Life’.

She was not some dead, rotting creature or dying monster.

She had a heart beat, struggling to keep going - just like everyone else’s heart. She was alive. Even here, surrounded by the dead, she was alive. And she was going to keep living.

The Goddess lost herself in the brief revelation of her own life, closing her eyes and blocking out everything else. It was a refreshing feeling to suddenly notice your own existence and life. To hear your heart beat, to feel your chest moving up and down as your lungs breathed in air, to recognise your own consciousness.

It was strangely freeing.

And so with that feeling clasped tightly to her chest and the uplifting idea of her own ‘Proof of Life’ filling her up with an almost giddy energy, she opened her lips and quietly breathed out.

“I want a child.”

The air shifted around her noticeably like something had awakened or turned its attention towards her. Hela’s eyelids slid open slowly, unfocused on her physical surroundings and seeing beyond that.

She could only see herself; her knees, her legs, her stomach, her chest and the stray hairs that hung like curtains on either side; and the Yggdrasil tree’s roots. It was beautiful. Everything had disappeared from her sight, had stopped existing to her. There was no throne or throne room, no ceiling or floor or walls and no hand maiden.

The Goddess of the Dead took a deep breath and began to talk slowly. “My womb is barren, my body half dead and my home amongst the unliving… However, I want life. Not for me, for I already know and accepted this deathly fate. I want the Life for a child; my child.”

Hela raised her head, facing skyward and looking up at the tree. It stretched for eternity, right up to Asgard. She stared at it in fascination, wondering why she had never seen it before.

“Yggdrasil tree.” She murmured its name, suddenly feeling very naked in its presence.

Her eyes were blown wide as she tried to see it all, everything it had. It was painful to see its beauty and ugliness in its branches and boughs. Despite how bare she felt here, kneeling exposed, she felt bold and shameless. The half corpse woman couldn’t find the will to hide her body in embarrassment like she always did. It would be a pointless action anyway.

The endless leaves and roots, they twisted everywhere, tying everywhere together. It hurt to see them all, to see everything at once. But still she stared in awe.

She could not look away from it, from Life! Would could look away? Who would?!

She could happily let insanity take over as she forever gazed up at the splendour and majesty of the Life-giver.

Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes now. But the pain! It was building now.

“A c-child…” She tried asking, feeling her quick tongue damped. The imaginary nudity of hers should have been startling but at such an intense, penetrating stare, it was impossible to be shy.

“Yggdrasil… P-please, give m-me a-a… a…” Hela swallowed heavily, feeling water rolling down her cheeks. Was she crying because of the pain? Or because of the breath-taking beauty? Or because she could not cope with the sheer sight of the nine realms, displayed like apples on the might branches of the tree?

She gave a gasp. The stream of tears were constant now, salty water on the right and murky grey water on the left.

“A… a-a… a babe… B-baby…?” She couldn’t believe her stutter, but it was hard to concentrate on her speech with her eyes opened like this. It was hard to speak at all. Had she even blinked since first looking up?

“I-I need-ed a ba-baby… Life f-for my c-c… child…” The partly rotting Queen took in a raggedly breathe and released it in a shudder. She could not stop her self from suddenly sobbing. The pain from looking at so much at once, the sorrow from her past attempts at birthing and the burning brilliance that radiated from Yggdrasil; it all hurt so much.

Hela weeped openly, as she prayed. She was bare and honest to the tree like she had never been before in her life. She had been stripped to the core and beyond. Everything that was hers was on view, just as everything that was the tree’s was.

Her retinas were scorching now, the pain building up into agony, yet she still found she could not look away. Was this how insanity felt? Is this why people should have no more than mere glances at the tree; least they become enraptured and die from the burden of simply staring at it? Or be trapped in craziness as you watched the whole universe through a very small in comparison mind? How did Heimdall cope with this pressing intensity that felt like it was trying to rip through Hela.

Suddenly Yggdrasil bended, ever so slightly. It looked like a breeze was blowing through the tree; realms and branches shifted, boughs of leaves rustled and the roots moved around her. Though it was no wind as that was impossible.

It was the tree responding to her.

The structure was swaying in a dance that swept up the entire nine realms, moving them all in a steady beat of Life, and only Hela and Heimdall knew because only they could see the whole tree. No one else would feel or see their realm and others move by the Life-giver, one of the greatest forces in the universe.

They were all unaware and clueless, unlike Hela who stared wide eyed at it all.

A pleasant feeling bubbled up in her chest, spreading from her heart and tingling through her body. The pain faded into the back ground, the insanity stopped and a warmth took their places.

In a split second, everything stopped crushing her and there was a moment of perfect understanding, clarity and calmness. She could see everything easily, with no pressure on her mind and agony on her eyes, and everything was crystal clear. She could see everything as it was.

Yes, she could become addicted to this sight for eternity.

The Goddess broke into a wide smile; beaming up at the tree. The normal gloomy woman had actually smiled so honestly and openly, she would have not recognised her self if she had seen it. It was a smile of happiness and peacefulness.

The Yggdrasill tree was truly beyond describing with it horrible prettiness and lovely ugliness.

And in that moment of quietness, while the tree shook above her in reply, her eyes drooped and she closed them happily.

Hela let her body slump and felt herself fall backwards. She could feel the presence of the tree shifting and fading into an unnoticeable background again, out of her sight like it should be.

She couldn’t care less though. She was on a high, feeling weightless as she fell. Like gravity had no hold on her.

The Goddess felt herself land on something, but it was not the hard stone ground of her throne room.

Her eyes peeled opened and reality returned to her. Her sobriety returned in full force.

There was a second where she found herself staring up at a blurry version of her handmaiden, in shock as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Everything was moving slowly and silently but the servant seemed panicked.

Then suddenly…

**_PAIN!_ **

Hela’s dry lips burst open as a horrifying scream exploded forth. **“AHHHHHHHHHH!”**

Noise and clarity crashed into her.

When she ran out of air, she struggled to breath in again, feeling her body still trying to scream.

Her eyes!

They seared in agony!

She felt her back arch slightly, soon realising that her head rested on the hand maiden’s lap. Hela lifted her hand to her eyes, feeling the moisture. When she lifted them away, it was not water that stained her fingers but a thick crimson liquid.

Blood.

Her eyes were bleeding. She was crying blood.

She prepared herself for another scream, her voice cracking and screeching as it died out.

The pain was becoming a more of a constant throb which helped the Goddess cope. She still sobbed gracelessly and uncontrollably, rasping out in half screams.

She could help someone yelling out for help and panicking.

Was it her?

No, it was the hand maiden.

Others were here now.

Something cold and wet was draped over her eyes. A cloth. A cool relief that soothed the burning pain - it felt like throwing ice onto hot coals. 

She had no idea how much longer she was conscious after that but soon the noise faded away and her mind slipped from her body.


	7. The sights which She had seen

# The sights which She had seen

How embarrassing.

She had actually fainted while praying.

Though fainting spells and illnesses were very common when she was a small child - bony, weak and half dying anyway; the Goddess had believed herself to out grown such a silly trait.

Apparently not.

Though the circumstances in this case were very special. Hela laid on her bed, cold damp cloth over her bloodied eyes and feeling rather pitiful for a God. The pain was being numbed by a couple of Healers from various realms that had died a supposed ‘cowardly’ death.

Truth was that they had merely been lucky enough to live to old age and die naturally; rather in battle which was the ‘noble’ and ‘heroic’ thing to do according to the All-father. That ignorant Æsir way of thinking was despised by the Goddess but she could do nothing about it. In the end though, it only meant that more souls were sent to Hela than to Odin. She only got stronger in numbers quicker and had more work to do with sorting and guiding them all.

The half dead woman was muttering to herself at the moment, trying to cast a healing spell over her wounded eyes. The healers were able to stop the agony and somewhat help the injury but not fix it completely. She never expected them to be able to. It was a somewhat inexplicable injury, her eyes crying blood, and even if it had been a more average infliction, most healers had difficulty adapting to healing a half dead being. They were taught with fully living beings; it was not their fault they were unused to…

Hela sighed, pausing in her spell casting. Her eyes were almost fully healed but they were starting to not react to her magic. It seemed she had reached her own healing capabilities. It was never her strong point anyway. Now only time and rest would help. How bothersome.

She sense the familiar soul of her handmaiden drifting very nearby; being one of the most loyal servants Hela had employed. She was a good-natured woman, that servant, and Hela appreciated that.

She felt the handmaiden move closer suddenly, and suddenly the cloth was removed. The Goddess squinted and blinked in the dull light, feeling too vulnerable and weak in this state. She heard water dripping and glanced to the side to see her handmaiden dip the cloth in a bucket of iced water. The cloth and water were a pale pink from the blood, darkening now as she tried to raise out the blood. She had given up after a moment though.

“Excuse, my Mistress, I shall fetch a fresh cloth and some clean water.”

“No need.” Hela snapped quickly before the dead woman could scurry off to retrieve the items. The hand maiden stopped, turning around to face her mistress with her head bowed.

“Mistress?”

“I am well enough.” She said coldly, pointedly not looking at the servant and ignoring the worried expression on her face.

The woman nodded in reply, whispering. “Yes, Mistress.” Hela gave a pointed glare at the servant, disliking what she was perceiving as pity. Though the truth was that it was concern rather than pity that plagued the servant.

The Goddess rose from the bed, walking over to a large vanity mirror, deciding to inspect her eyes herself. The left eye seemed not much different, the white was usually blood-shot and the iris had mostly remained a slightly milky green. Though the rim was much redder and swollen, no one would look long enough to notice or care.

The right eye, usually a lovely sight of clear shining emeralds, appeared far worse; though the damage to both eyes was probably the same. The white had bloomed violently in deep crimson petals, spreading into the emerald iris like muddy red moss. The rims were plum coloured, puckered slightly and glistened lightly with red as small droplet of scarlet blood still formed. The pale skin around her eye was dry and stained a pale pink, puffing up like a swollen frog.

She turned away in disgust. Now both sides were hideous.

Hopefully the right side will heal properly and return to normal. But how did this happen?

Her exact memory of the events of the prayer are burned clearly into her brain but none of it makes sense. Like she can’t turn and look at the memory straight on, though she knows she has it. Hela turned to the handmaiden who waited for another command. The one who had watched over her during the prayer.

“Tell me what happened whilst I prayed. What happened to my body? What did I do? Spare nothing; everything is important.”

“Of course, my Mistress.” The woman curtsied. “Thou had kneel before thy throne with thy hands on heart and head ducked and eyes closed. You seemed very peaceful.” Her medieval accent still persisted despite being dead for centuries now. The servant trailed off quietly as if reminiscing silently on the memory. Hela wanted words though.

“Continue.” She ordered snappily. The maiden tilted her head humbly.

“After a few minutes, thou spoke. ‘I want a child’ were thy exact words. Shortly afterwards, thy eyes opened but you appeared catatonic. Thou remained in that state staring up at nothing for a long time. I tried several times to gain your attention. I feared touching thee though, seeming as possessed as you acted. Thy mouth moved occasionally in silent wording and t’was lost on me what thee tried to speak.” She paused, glancing to the Goddess who had her hand resting on her chin in thought.

“Can you tell me anything else about my state at that time?”

“Not much is to be said, though thou ne’er did blink once. Thy eyes seemed hazed over in one colour. T’was a blank white, Mistress.” She stopped to let Hela process this new information.

“Continue. What happened next?”

“It was after that thy eyes watered and tears. Quietly, with just water falling from thy eyes. I became more worried about your state. Thou never even twitched. Some time passed again, you suddenly started moving and showing signs of distress.”

“Distress?”

“You started shaking, the tears became more like actual crying. You appeared to be speaking without words again; stopping and starting periodically. You made pained noises and whines as it someone was hurting thee a lot which progressively became louder and worse. Thou head dipped lower as if being pushed down. I called many healers to try and help thee. N-none could help you though… I-I apologise for that Mistress.”

“Don’t waste time on apologies, tell me what happened next!” Hela was busy trying to decipher the hand maiden’s information. It seemed to be coming to the crux of the story. Her impatience was getting the best of her.

“S-Sorry Mistress.” She bowed. “Thou remained in much distress. The healers tried to seek advice from books.”

“My books?”

“A-aye.” Hela glared, feeling angry. She despised the idea of anyone touching her things.

“Thou suddenly calmed again. I feared you had entered a catatonic state again. I approached thee in dread, Mistress. Suddenly blood streaked down thy face. Your eyes were gushing suddenly with blood. Though you smiled happily as if there was nary wrong with thee! I screamed for help, trying to get thou to move and react. T’was favourless at first until suddenly thy eyes closed and you began to slump. I caught thy head and your eyes opened and thee did scream loud enough to wake the Devil. The healers returned in a beat, covering thy eyes. Thou passed out soon after and woke the next morn.”

“I see.” Hela thought.

She had been staring at the entire universe. No wonder her godly body began to cave and break - faced with the pressure of seeing the entire nine realms with no protection to body or mind. 

Praying to Yggdrasil was far more dangerous than she had originally though; the Goddess would not be able to do again without the risk of losing her sight.

But will she have to do it again?

The tree had looked at her, heard her pleas but did it answer?

Would it answer Hela and bestow a child upon her?

The half dead woman grimaced; only one being could see the tree and not be afflicted by its power. Only one had to Sight to endure it and watch it endlessly. Only one would see if the tree had answered her prayer. Only Heimdall would have the answer to her question.

She’d have to visit him later today; Hela could assign various parts of her job to some trusted servants for a day and not worry.

“Excuse me Mistress.” The Goddess turned around in surprise as her hand maiden unusually beckoned her attention. “Forgive my a-arrogance but I must i-inquire… I know the ultimate goal which yesterday was d-dedicated to but… F-forgive me, but why did thee smile while in so much pain? What sights did thou see? If it isn’t too p-petulant to ask, my Mistress…” The hand maiden stumbled clumsily, trying to ask but not be offensive and prying.

If her father’s tongue was silver, then her servant’s would be wooden; splintering, brittle and weak. The woman was shy to speak and when she did, unless it was story-telling or reciting, it was sputtery and inelegant. It was honest though but not foolishly so. Yet despite her slow simple speech, she was a competent woman, completing everything to near perfection when asked.

Hela liked her as a servant (to her surprise) and was glad to find such a loyal, trustworthy and hard working hand maiden. Though that was not originally why she had had hired the woman.

The Goddess’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. Though her eyes were ruby and swollen and the left side’s grey mottled skin sagged making the smile look crooked, Hela appeared peaceful.

“I had seen a tree.”


	8. The sights which He sees

# The sights which He sees

Heimdall was a keeper and a guardian. He was a God of Sight and Protection, as were those that came from him.

The minotaur race had stemmed from him and his eyes, swearing patronage in return for their existence. They were spread mainly around Dwarven, Elven and Midgardian areas, blessed with similar golden eyes that saw paths through their labyrinth homes and where their treasure was at all times. They were a small race but a powerful one, balanced between animal and man and protective of their one true treasure.

As they should be as the ‘children’ of Heimdall.

Because that what Heimdall was like in nature - a minotaur.

Fierce, protective, never straying from his labyrinth. Even if he had not sworn his undying loyalty to Asgard and her throne, he would still stand and watch over her. The golden realm was his treasure, his mother, forever under his gaze until his heart stopped.

However, Heimdall had a secondary and much larger item to watch over.

The Yggdrasil tree was an enormous thing that only he could see all at once in all its glory, without succumbing to madness, death or worse. It would be only natural that he took it under his wing as well. Its existence was key to Asgard’s survival as the tree supported the realm.

So he took to watching both above anything else in the universe, though he still saw everything else anyway. Which is why he knew immediately when someone had disturbed the tree. He could sense the focus shift, traveling down and down and down. To Hel.

And there he saw a strange sight. A Goddess on her knees praying, the Stewardess of the Dead asking for a life - a child of her own.

Hel was a difficult place to see into with its layer of protective mist but the Guardian had long become used to it. Though he missed much of the going ons in the dead realm, he could still usually see the important parts; Hela’s mansion, the gates into Hel, Garm’s most regular patrol route etc.

Despite the thick fog, Heimdall had vaguely been aware of her previous attempts at childbirth, the failures and the garden of crafted black glass roses. But with a whole universe spread before you, there was no reason for the Guardian to pay attention to something so minor to his mission.

But now, he had a reason.

It seemed Hela could see as he saw whilst she prayed, but he could see her mind beginning to unravel and her body collapse. At this rate, she would destroy herself, crumbling apart under the might of the tree. She was not designed as he was. The half dead woman was not born of nine mothers and blessed with the Sight and the body and mind to endure it. She would fall apart unlike him.

The tree had remained observing but quiet, unmoving, during most of the prayer. Heimdall continued watching as well. Out of the blue, something surprised him.

It is notoriously hard to surprise the all-seeing protector of Asgard; he has, does and will see everything.

He sees all the great mistakes of a society, the small imperfections in a family, the shameful affairs that take place in a relationship and all the repercussions of theses and much much more.

He sees all the happy moments of a child’s life, all the secrets a man keeps from his wife, all the smiles and tears that a woman will bear and all the giggles of a new born baby and much much more.

He sees accidents that have no fault, attacks made to look like accidents, fun sporting games where people bleed and team work between brothers and much much more.

He sees embarrassing secrets, shameful passions, strange confidential tastes and private enjoyments and much much more.

There is near naught which he has not seen before.

So surprise is a rare, unfamiliar taste in his palette.

Yet he is astonished.

Yggdrasil had suddenly shifted in response to Hela, its leaves rustling as if something momentous had swept through it. The tree had actually moved its mighty boughs and branches , adjusting the position of entire realms, his mothers, in a visual reply to the Goddess of the Dead.

She had shaken the universe in such an enormous way that no one but Heimdall and her would have felt and seen the tremors.

Travellers would soon realise that the paths along the tree had changed, but it was not unusual for the tree to move, happening every few months or years. It was a living thing in its own right and movement was eventual. But rarely before had the whole tree all moved at once; usually just one or two branches at a time changed positions.

The last time had been centuries ago, during the Vanaheim civil war that had ultimately spilled out onto nearby realms, burning branches and worlds, forcing all of Yggdrasil to tilt in an attempt at rebalancing itself.

To sway the entire tree required great force which would alter the universe irreversibly. It would effect everyone, whether they knew it or not. And whether the half dead woman understood the ramifications of her deed or not was unknown.

And he would not know until later.

For now Hela had fallen, her body and mind being let go by the tree to prevention her own destruction. Her eyes had poured blood in return for her exertions.

The tree stilled after that.

The dark skinned God watched as dead healers worked on the Goddess, as the Goddess woke and healed herself, as Hela questioned her handmaiden and as she answered her handmaiden’s questions in return. The conversation had bemused Heimdall slightly, making his lips twitched.

_“I had seen a tree.”_

_“A tree?!” The servant gasped out loudly in shock before her cheeks exploded into scarlet and she tried spluttering an apology. “A-ah. S-sorry, Mistress… I had not e-expected t~… T’is to say… I mean… Sorry, Mistress.”_

_She fiddled with her sleeve before asking again. “W-what tree? If t-thee don’t mind me as~”_

_“The Yggdrasil tree.” The Goddess replied, uncaring she had interrupted her servant._

_“Oh…”_

_There was a pause._

_“What is the Y-Ygg…Ya-Yaggersdil tree?”_

_At that Hela only rolled her eyes and gave the shorter woman a pat on the head. It was almost pity but more similar to lovingly petting a dog that had sillily gotten its head stuck in a fence._

_It was not her fault that Midgard had forgotten the tree and none of them knew what it was. But it was ridiculous regardless that a whole race could be so ignorant of the very thing that was allowing them to exist._

_“Yggdrasil Tree. It’s important.” The decaying woman settled on saying._

_Though the lost look on her hand maiden’s face had remained, she stayed silent and blushing._

He watched now as the stewardess readied herself to see the golden eyed God. Hela could not physically leave Hel, cursed by Odin to forever remain within its bounds until Ragnarok. But she had other ways of talking to those on the other side of the border.

A doll, fashioned from magic to look like her.

It was a spell that she had learned from Loki. While connected to the doll, Hela could sense what the false body could and speak through it. It required an extensive amount of magic to do it over long distances and nothing was quite as long as the distance between Hel at the base of Yggdrasil and Asgard at the crown.

But Hela could still do it with the support of the great magic she had inherited through her trickster father. She was not as strong or as skilled as him but one should still not look down on her might. Her father was one of the greatest sorcerers in the universe, and Hela had taken after him. Even if she wasn’t the strongest, she was one of the strongest. She deserved and demanded respect for that.

The air crackled noisily for a moment before falling silent.

The guardian wondered for a mere moment if the spell had failed. However a snap of green light snapped loudly an inch from his nose and he soon found himself staring directly into Hela’s eyes.

One was a milky mixture of dark green and pale grey and blood shot, sitting in a sagging pouch of mottled grey flesh that looked like it would drop the ball all too easily. The other was smooth and clear, a depthless shade of emerald that reflected every shade of light and shone beautiful from beneath pale lids and dark eye lashes.

The doll had taken a form as close to the original Goddess, though without any of the recent damage that was on the real body.

They were close enough Heimdall felt his warm breath mingle with the doll’s unnecessary, mild breath. She looked stern, her spine crooked to meet his gaze.

She had appeared so quickly and closely to his face that any other being in the universe would have reacted in surprise.

He, however, remained still, unmoving and unblinking.

Her expression remained neutral though a brief flash of annoyance dashed through her eyes.

“You did not blink, Guardian.”

“Nay.” He replied briskly.

Hela had purposely magicked the false body so close in an attempt to startle the God into blinking. A form of mischief, he supposed.

The Goddess still remained at the uncomfortably close distance, noses almost touching. There was a heavy silence as Hela waited for an acknowledgement or an explanation for his unflinching state.

After a while she tsked and walked past him, her dress swishing against his armour at the close proximity.

She circled the room once, observing the lay out and design.

Suddenly Hela snapped her false body direction back towards him though she stood a few feet away now.

“I have questions, Heimdall.”

“I need not answer them if I do not desire or if it threatens Asgard. The only ones I will doubtlessly answer to are Asgard, her throne and heirs.”

The Goddess opened her mouth in a brief flash of anger. Anger at being denied as Loki’s child, Odin’s grandchild, a princess through her royal blood and name.

She was Hela _Lokidottir!_

Fully entitled to be princess of Asgard if not for her unfortunate and undeserved banishment.

Instead she sealed her lips, took in a deep cleansing breath then spoke evenly as if hardly anything had insulted her. She gave a condescending smile.

“Threatening? To Asgard?” She laughed briefly at the absurdity. “The answers I seek will hardly endanger such a strong standing and powerful realm. T’is have nothing to with the Golden Realm anyway.”

“Yet, you stand at its gate.”

“Only for its Protector’s word and more importantly his endless sight.”

The golden eyed male smiled slightly. The power of word crafting was truly her fathers but Hela was a very competent word smith herself. She had dissociated herself from the idea of harming Asgard whilst flattering it to increase her standing in Heimdall’s eyes. Though he knew this was her aim, he also knew that it had worked to some ends.

Heimdall also already mostly knew what line of questioning the Goddess would probably take, if she acted within logic and order. But being the daughter of the God of Chaos sometimes made her actions hard to predict.

The Guardian already had a prime example earlier today when she had _actually_ knelt and prayed to the great tree.

The half dead woman or at least her doll continued her exploration, knowing that she did not have to care about staying within sight or hearing.

Hela had made the doll perfectly in her original image, half dead side and all. The Goddess had the ability to make the doll appear as anything she wants, including an ordinary woman, fully alive and beautiful on all sides.

Many might wonder why she would refuse to embellish the doll with smooth all over skin and lovely living features. Even Heimdall had wondered at first why she kept that form when it was no secret that the corpse like Goddess disdained that side of her.

The answer came to him though when he observed a meeting between Hela and Odin that occurred many years ago.

_When the hideous doll graced the bottom steps of the throne room, the All-father politely, or perhaps impolitely, requested that the Goddess changed the doll’s appearance to something more normal whilst in Asgard._

_Hela laughed, cackling like a crazed witch, cruelly and in a spur of madness. The king clenched in anger at the sorceress who appeared to be openly mocking him, though he sat on the throne above even her tall height._

_“Do you dare laugh at me, Stewardess?”_

_“Aye, Allfather.” She grinned, toughing the left decaying cheek and stroking it gently. “I may curse this dying side but I know that it is a greater tarnish on your royal blood’s pride than it is on my own vanity.” She chuckled meanly again. “The shame, the shame. That Odin’s blood could produce such a hideous brood.”_

_A spark of insanity danced through her expression. Hela knew she should stop now, that this was a terribly bad thing to do and say but she had just snapped. Now the woman could not stop her poisonous words from spilling out of her lips, vemonous and burning at the edges of her sanity. And at the edges of the Allfather’s patience. The Goddess knew she would pay very dearly for this outburst of fiery anger and malice filled truths once done._

_“Does it bother you, ‘grandfather’? That though you might have banished me and my kin, every realm still knows that it was your family that had produced these monsters. That you must be a monster in turn. Monster!” The Goddess half snarled at the end._

_The mighty king stood, banging the Gungir spear’s butt against the ground. A wave of power clanged around the huge throne room, silencing the woman. The half dead woman’s eyes filled with fear as the Allfather glared down at her, breathing heavily with rage._

_Her head bowed until she was staring ahead, rather than looking up at him as she realised her own words and out break. She shook slightly under the power of his voice. Her whole body tensed, ready for what might come._

_She had been stupid. But it was not her fault! Even the cold Goddess of the Dead had a limit! Odin had just been the last straw._

_“Hela, Goddess of the Dead, you are dismissed.” He commanded, his voice booming too loudly for just the two of them._

_The half dead doll shivered with the pressure of his order and gave a brief curtsy before rushing from the room._

_A cloak of fear trailed after her as she waited for her punishment bad in her own realm. She also held terror for her father, that might also bear the brunt of the punishment. They would use the excuse that he should have raised her properly with manners and respect, though in reality he never had the chance to raise her before she was thrown away from Asgard._

_The point of the summoning was forgotten for now._

The Æsir king had only asked of it because elven diplomats were visiting at the same time as Hela and true to Hela’s words, Odin had not wanted the shame and embarrassment of other’s seeing his granddaughter appear as so.

He did not expect her outburst nor wished it.

In the end, she was not punished.

Many suspected that either Loki or Frigga had a say in this, reminding the prideful God-King that Hela was still a child compared to them. ‘Emotional’, ‘Raised mainly by Jotuns’ and ‘Very sensitive anyway’.

Odin did not summon her back to his throne that day but instead visited her in Hel to finish his request for a discussion. Though the wise king still summons Hela to court, out of necessity, he makes sure to avoid the sensitive subject of the doll’s half dying appearance.

The Goddess’s words rang too true, though Hela dislike her left side, Odin hated it more because of his pride.

Her vanity was just mere vanity compared to eons of his proud stain-free blood and she revealed and gloated in this information, even flaunting her ugliness during her occasional visits. She relished in the twisted sense of power it gave her over Odin, though it was truly a double edged sword. It still hurts her deeply to be stared at in fear like she was a monster.

However it was her pride that forced her to keep up to facade no matter what harm to herself. As long as it also damaged Odin, she would not stop doing it. Thus her had dead state remained etched into the doll’s design.

And Heimdall watched that half dead design glide effortlessly across the smooth floor.

She finally stopped on the far right, to the back, by the domed golden wall. She rested her hand on the precious metal that made the walls of the observatory and ran her fingers over the markings there. She was clearly considering her first question as she delved into her deep thought.

The Sighted God was an incredibly patient man so he did not care about the wait, though he vaguely wondered why she hesitated so.

A question finally rose from her lips, a mere quiet breath, quieter than a whisper but Heimdall heard it loud and clear.

_“Why do you not blink?”_

A question he had answered once or twice before but still unexpected.

Child bearing, the Yggdrasil tree or praying were topics he predicted Hela to bring up.

She saw her turn her head to look at him, though the woman would only see the back of his helm. He saw no apparent reason for not answering this question but first he wanted to ask a question himself.

“Is that truly why you traveled so far? To ask me such a question?”

“No…” She whispered quietly, clenching her fist as it rested against the room. She composed herself quickly by force.

If Heimdall pitied her, he did not dare show it.

“I have sworn to never blink.” At that the Goddess smiled again, pulling her hand from the warmly colour metal though it was cold to touch. Gold was odd that way.

“Oh. So that’s your excuse for not blinking.” She resumed trailing around the room again like a ghost. “Personally I assumed it was because you held fear…” She murmured, purposely mysterious. She did love suspense. It seemed to run in the blood line.

Heimdall turned his head, a signal to a question he would not ask - why? She smirked, wide and toothy like a piranha.

“I think you have a fear of death, Heimdall. That the Mistress might sneak up on you and steal your precious breath if you turn your gaze for but a moment.”

The God turned his eyes forward again. It was an interesting theory. Wrong but interesting.

“The only thing I have to fear of my death is my impending inability to protect Asgard in absence.” He replied gravely.

“No fear for your own self?”

“Nay. Self preservation is an inconvenience for my purpose.”

“What a dreadful existence then… Your entire being dedicated not to yourself but to something that will never appreciate you.” She did sound like she pitied him but it was a lie and they both knew it. Hela was not a woman that pitied others, especially when death was involved.

“I could say the same of you, Stewardess of the Deceased.”

She flinched like she had physically been slapped in the face. The Goddess looked terribly affronted. Rage glittered in her eyes as she glared at the dark-skinned man. “At least I would raise a hand to defend myself against a blade!” She snapped back angrily. Her steps became sharper and harder against the ground. “And it would be for my own sake! Not some war-mongering realm with a superiority complex!”

At that the gold eyed man chuckled deeply.

The woman huffed like a child, puffing out her cheek in distain as she came to another stop.

In that brief moment, Heimdall could see that immature little girl that hid inside Hela and her darkness.

The little girl who didn’t choose her birth mother but was tormented for it anyway.

The little girl who was spoiled rotten by her father who she loved.

The little girl who only had her older brothers because everyone else shunned them.

The little girl that played freely in the palace until she was banished to Jotunheim for her parentage and their crimes.

Hela had been a gloomy and down casted child but she was the same in essence as every other young child - innocent and carefree. Though she did not always smile and did not like others easily, she had still had a somewhat happy abet very short childhood.

The Goddess probably didn’t deserve her punishment.

It had snuffed out that immature innocence before its time was due.

Now a cold facade took its place - one that could seem cruel, sadistic or crazed at times though Hela was rarely any of those in reality. She appeared like that so no one else could see her. She was too proud.

And in that moment, Heimdall showed his pity for the woman.

He answered the question she was perhaps too proud or too scared to ask. The question the half dead woman had avoided.

“I do not know the meaning of Yggdrasil’s movement.” His smooth deep voice sounded wise, though he admitted to a lack of knowledge. ”Though many ask me to, I can not see the future. Only the present.”

Heimdall moved suddenly, turning his entire body to face her. His gold eyes pierced her. She froze, staring at him wide eyed as if he had cross a dangerous, dangerous taboo by his actions or speech. The God wondered if it reminded Hela of what it felt like to be stared at directly and completely by the Yggdrasil tree. She swallowed loudly, even to his sensitive ears.

“I know not what you speak of, Heimdall.”

The Guardian placed his blade to his side, holding it one hand as he focused entirely on her, though the sights of the universe still crossed his vision. “I do not have the ability to discern whether the Life-Giver will be kind enough to gift you with a life. I only saw the reaction, I cannot mediate its answer.” There was a flash of surprise before the Goddess remembered that Heimdall saw and most likely knew all.

“Oh.” She looked away from him and glanced to the ground as if in shame.

Hela had done what many only dreamed of; she had changed the universe. And she did it for a seeming insignificant thing too. To bear a child. Millions did this on a daily basis with careless thought to the act they were doing - creating a new life.

This was an incredible feat beyond many's reach! Yet she stood here as if ashamed of her actions and their results. Loki’s bloodline was certainly odd at times.

“So you have no wisdom to offer on this matter?”

At this the Guardian smiled. “Never have I seen the tree moved so easily for a single being. It is perhaps preparing itself for the future.” He suggested, turning back to the seemingly empty area of space in front of the observatory. “Yggdrasil would probably not make such a big move if nothing was going to change. You may hold a baby in your arms yet.”

He smiled gently as if watching over a child he was in fond of. ”Over the many years, I have watched the tree, nary have I seen it move to just say no. It would not waste the energy to refuse someone, rather it would do nothing if it had denied your quest.”

Heimdall knew the tree well. The tree was as old as he was. When the nine realms were called into existence by the tree, they bore a son - Heimdall. He was created to be a guardian, to watch over them and the tree that had raised them from nothingness.

And he did.

After Odin’s father, Bor, found him on a quest, the dark-skinned man had soon found himself in mother Asgard. He owed much to Odin Borson’s birth father and it was a debt he gladly paid back as he watched over the Golden Realm. Though he favoured his mother, Asgard, he would always watch over the rest of the realms. Despite what quarrels Asgard had with other worlds, those world’s were still Heimdall’s mothers too.

Jotunheim, Alfheim, Midguard, Helheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim, Svartalheim, Muspelheim - they bore him, the man with the Sight, just as much as Asgard. 

He was Heimdall, born of nine mothers, of nine realms. He was gifted with the Sight. He knew the realms as well as he knew himself and he knew the tree almost as much.

The God spoke out of kindness though and he feared giving her false hope and watching her fall again. So he decided to try and caution the brooding Goddess. Just in case. “That is merely past experience though. I warn you, I may be wrong in this matter. The tree may not allow you you bear a baby of your own but instead was referring to something else. The norns are strange in their fate weaving and the tree is stranger.”

“I understand.” Hela muttered, though hope tinged her voice.

The domed observatory fell silent.

As the Goddess hoped and the God thought.

Hela’s questions were answered so it was only a matter of minutes before she disappeared again. Before then, he had another question.

“So what did you think, seeing what only those with the Sight should see?”

“It was a sight to be withheld yet should never be seen. I fear I was very lucky I did not perish or fall to insanity. The sight… It was…” She sighed. “Born of the silver tonged, sly Liesmith and I cannot even find one word to describe it. T’is not a brilliant enough word that exists.”

She stroked her sides absently as she joined his side and stared out into the cosmos beside him. The stars danced, silver cracks of light threaded together like on a loom, swirling reds and blues collided and the suns burned brighter and brighter as they charged across the navy blue. This was beautiful but it was still nothing compared to Yggdrasil.

“Is this why you remain so silence and quietly brooding? Because you are searching for a word to express what you see? So that you can explain it to another and share conversation?”

“You speak as if I were consumed by the sight before me?”

“Are you not, Guardsman? I rarely see you speak but I always see you looking.” Heimdall looked thoughtful at Hela’s words. But then again he always did. The Goddess could find it quite annoying that it was difficult to read what those thoughts were exactly. 

“Nay.”

“Are you not lonely though? With nary a soul to talk to about what your Sight sees?”

At that, Heimdall had no answer. He did not have to answer though because then the doll was gone. The Protecter of Asgard would like to think that if Hela had stayed longer, he might have answered “Nay.” and that it might have been true.


	9. Moonstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Moonlit Bear by Miku Hatsune (Vocaloid).
> 
> A transitional chapter - the plots starts rolling agains next chapter.

# MoonStruck

That night, Hela sat in thought.

The tree had replied, though what it said was unclear, even after consulting with the Sight endowed Guardian. The golden eyed man had mentioned that the tree would not normally react so much for a simple refusal. If Heimdall was right with what he had said, then there was a chance that she would receive a child…

_But when?_

What might be a moment for the Yggdrasil might be years for Hela. And then, if the tree had meant no after all, then there would be no babe for her womb.

The Goddess sighed into her shoulder, with her head dipped low so it almost touched her chest. The air was unnaturally cold at the moment, with a mask of icy mist hanging by her mouth. It was an unusually chilly night (for Helheim at least) with frozen winds blowing in from Niflheim.

To be honest, she wouldn’t have even noticed the chill unless her breath had not crystallised in front of her eyes. She didn’t feel its bite harshly with her jotun heritage and frost powers protecting her.

So she ignored it, preferring to settle herself farther into the luxurious arm chair that had been pushed over to the window for this night. It was a luscious chair, draped in thick white and brown fur from some sort of rare furry beast that had once roamed in Asgard. The pelt had been a gift from her father and it was gloriously soft and comfy.

Loki always did have good tastes and an excellent eye for quality and beauty.

That’s why it was almost easy to believe him when he complimented her beauty. Though every child cannot help but think at least once that love is blind when it comes to parents. They spoil and praise the child, proclaiming their intelligence and lovely appearance is above all others. But that can never be true for all or even most children.

Hela had longed grown out of the naivety of believing what her father said about her.

And it was not because he was the God of Lies. Loki honestly thought he was telling the truth when he praised Hela’s beauty; not realising that his sight was clouded by his adoration of his only daughter.

Yes, love was blind when it came to parents and their children.

She wondered if she would be the same with her own baby.

She gave another heavy sigh that made her sag further into the long fur sleepily. She turned her head from her body and looked up and out of the window.

Normally a shell of mist coated the dead realm like a dome, but tonight it was thinned significantly. Usually the layer was ever moving and changing, thinning and thickening in some areas. But this was vastly different.

For once, Hela could see the sky. And more importantly, she could see the moon.

That glorious round body of silver that hanged delicately in the sky, haloed by a pale blue ring and followed by millions of stars. It was still a little too hazy for most of the stars to be seen but the moon stood out in its bold brilliance. It was always such a beautiful object.

The Goddess suspected that the unusually cold blowing in and the thinning mist was to do with the sudden change in the Yggdrasil’s position. Likely, these phenomena would quickly disappeared as the realm balanced out again after the shift.

So Hela had decided to make the most of it while it lasted. The only other times she could see the moon were on her occasional trip and stay in the dazzling realm of Asgard.

The half dead woman was moon gazing, deep in thought about her maybe child. It was distracting, staring at the moon though. Her thoughts kept drifting up to the moon then back down to her dream like baby.

The two were similar.

Untouchable to Hela but desired by her any way.

The inky blackness framed the celestial being, as it floated higher and higher into the night sky. It was late into the night by now.

She hoped her child might be as lovely as the moon; peaceful, beautiful, memorising, stunning, hypnotising…

Yes, just like the moon. Ever so pretty and attractive, lulling people into calmness….

Memorising and captivating…

Hela blinked and pulled her grey cloak closer around her. She was unsure of when she started wearing it but other than that she never questioned it. The hood was pulled up, over her head. It was a comfortable hooded cloak, pale grey and light as air; yet it protected her from the moist, cold fog that swirled around her on this path.

She smiled.

That was because the cloak was made from mist. Hela didn’t know where such a silly idea came from but it was a uniquely surreal piece of clothing and endlessly helpful.

Her shoes clipped off the dirt path in a steady beat as she walked through the forest.

Trees, like the illusionary ones that occasionally appeared in Hel, circled around her. A curtain of dark greens and ancient browns that hide her as she wandered through these dark, dark woods. The ground was a tall carpet of jade grass blades with a thin worn path cutting through it like a vein. Leaf rustled like chimes on the twisting branches as a breeze pushed through. Shadows criss-crossed, making patterns into the already complex maze of wood and greenery. It was creepy, eery and scarily beautiful. A haunting place that was undeniably gorgeous yet dark.

Hela looked up to the moon with wide eyes. The moon had followed her to such a lovely forest as well. What a nice moon. It was even lighting up the way for her, guiding her farther.

She continued, deeper and deeper into the woods, only watched by the fat full moon, until she came to the centre.

And there, in the middle of the deep dark woods, was a large tree with wide branches that covered part of the navy blue sky, doted with glittering stars. Hundreds of ravens sat in its branches, making it look like it had onyx leaves, fluttering as the birds moved. They cackled noisily as the woman approached. Each ominous raven stared at her with glassy black eyes that shone darkly in anticipation. 

As if by some unknown key, the flock of deathly bird spread their midnight wings and took flight. The air filled with flapping wings and croaks of ravens as they scattered like rice thrown against the floor. A thundering ugly song and canopy of squawks and caws.

They disappeared into the dark sky, becoming part of the night and the forest fell silent.

The tree was bare now, leafless.

A sea of pale turquoise moss lapped up onto its roots and surrounded the tree in a cozy, damp field. There, nestled in its roots, like jewels on a podium, were two red, very red apples laying on the ground. They were much larger than normal apples, the colour and clarity of carved rubies and glowed with the hypnotising light that was reflected from the moon.

What beautiful, beautiful fruits.

Surely they must be a gift from the Yggdrasil tree, just for Hela to find and keep.

The Goddess knelt down careful and gently picked the large apples up, cradling them. They are wonderful, so wonderful, these fruit the Goddess has found. The half dead woman clutched them to her chest happily. These were just what she was searching for, theses were what she deserved. She smiled in joy as she rocked the red apples gently.

She wondered if _He_ would be happy if she took these fruits home to _Him_. Yes, _He_ would surely be very happy. Just like Hela; so very, very happy and filled to burst with joy. _He_ would probably cry with happiness.

She turned away from the tree, holding the apples softly in her arms. Her dead hand and live hand, equally as comforting as they supported the round fruits’ heads.

The moon is very radiant tonight, the Goddess noted as she looked up in to the sky again. It made the fruit hum with light.

Despite looking, dazed, at the lovely moon, the half dead woman still felt a shiver run up her back. She glanced about; the playful shadows from earlier were now stretching out ominously.

The grass crunched loudly as her foot slammed forward, quickly followed by her other one. She began a brisk walk, feeling the fear slither up to her and try to curl around her throat. 

“Let’s head back home quickly now.” She murmured to her precious crimson fruit. Because the Goddess of the Dead knew that on dark nights like this, scary bears will come out.

After all the pain she went through to find them, to find these precious fruits, she was keeping them. All that pain and crying and heart break! All the tears, the agony! Her failures! These apples were her gift for enduring that! She had found them through great pain finally and…

“And no one will, no one in the entire nine realms will, ever be able to take these red, red fruits from me!”

Yes, nobody, Odin included, were going to grab these stolen fruit from the half dead Goddess. She would hand the two apples over to no one. _They were hers._

Her gripped tightened and she held them safe, close to her breast, gazing down at them lovingly.

She closed her eyes briefly, swearing this to herself.

Her eyes snapped open as she darted along the path, retracing her steps through the forest.

The long grass growing of the sides of the path had been replaced by flowers; thorny black roses snaked along the edges of the dirt trampled trail. They glittered with night frost and dew, still in the form of buds.

As she passed them through, they bloomed quickly with an almost violent flourish, their soft black petals flaring out as hundreds of dark roses watched her run. Their thorny barbs hung over parts of the path, catching her dress and cloak but Hela ignored them, just holding the fruit close to her heart.

She smiled slightly. She only needed to get home now. When she brings these apples home, _He_ was definitely be happy and she will be happy too. They will both be very happy with their two fruits. The joy they will share will be so lovely. She only had to hurry and get home.

Suddenly she heard a crunching snap from behind her.

_Thud, thud, thud._

Pounding footsteps muffled by dirt slowly came into focus. An angry growl vibrating menacingly through the frigid night air.

The Goddess turned her head fractionally and saw a giant bear lumbering, following behind her on the path.

Impossibly tall and looming, two glowing moon like eyes set in a dark face. It’s long, coal coloured fur was smooth and inky, twisting into the darkness and blending into the night. If it was not for the white outline shining on its ebony form from the moon, it would be invisible apart from its huge glowing pale grey coloured eyes, staring at her.

It chased after her, stumbling on its two hind legs as it stretched its arms out towards the half dead woman. It occasionally tripped on one of the vine like roses that snaked onto the path.

The beast glared at her with big enraged eyes and a frightening face, haloed by silver moonlight. It was running faster after her, slashing its claws as if reaching forward, slowly catching up with the Goddess.

Hela turned to face in front of her, speeding up more, terrified as this big, black monster hunted her down. Her heart pulsed painfully in her chest as she willed her legs to speed up and she panted heavily, making her face flush pink from exhaustion. She could go no quicker though.

But the bear was still getting closer and closer.

Unbidden tears leapt to her eye, as fear gripped her chest. This bear was going to take her lovely apples away from her.

“Please forgive me, bear, please forgive me!” She cried out desperately. “Please just let me run far away!” She clutched the fruit nearer her neck, hunching over slightly as if to protect them.

“Please just let me have these apples!” The bear only made a roaring sound, calling back to Hela but not stopping.

The bear continued unrelenting, following the Goddess just as desperately. Hela gritted her teeth, willing the tears in her eyes not to fall. She knew it was a poor shot to beg to the bear.

After all, she knew that these two special apples were the things that the bear treasured most in the whole universe. And so with the beast’s treasure, she continued forward.

The heavy steps of the bear were creeping closer and closer. She could hear its pained grunts and pants as it frantically chased after Hela. It was much larger and clumsier than her, falling and tripping more.

But still she kept on running, stumbling and still running. The bottoms of her dress and cloak were tattered rags from the thorny plants tugging at her, trying to stop her. Her ankles and calves were scratched and bled freely, staining what remained of the bottom of her dress. Her feet kicked up dirt as she fled, mud tainting her clothes.

She struggled along the narrowing path, where the weed like black roses attacked her flesh and cloths, biting her skin like angry cobras. She kept tripping and almost falling over on the traitorous dark plants.

The bear was having a harder time.

The Goddess ignored it all, determined not to hand over this happiness. She was not going to give up this piece of her love to that big mean bear. These kidnapped red apples were hers now.

Hela could now hear the bear, closer than ever, almost breathing down her back and also being delayed by the deathly black roses. She glanced back and gasped. It was so close, it’s ghastly form illuminated by her guide, the moon. It’s burning white eyes glared at her.

Its shadow was already falling onto Hela, advancing nearer and nearer. The gloomy shadow clumsily moved over her, starting to block out the friendly moon’s light. The Goddess looked around, terrified for her apples, not recognising the warped surroundings.

The right path was already fading away from sight.

She was lost, unable to get to her safe home with her two red apples.

The path was gone but still she kept on running, only merely running.

Hela carelessly just ran, uncaring of where she went as long as she just got away from the monster. But the dark shadow swallowed her more and more. She could not see where she was going or what path she took.

The bear’s sweet breath was now brushing over her back, and the air shuffled as the claws reach out for Hela.

The Goddess screwed up her eyes as the tears began to fall. She shook as she realised she was going to get caught and this happiness she had found in her apples was going to be taken away.

She cried now, wishing she could pull the fruit closer into her tight grip.

She looked down, blurred with tears, and saw her two young apples also weeping loudly.

Behind her, she heard sobbing. The bear was weeping out in sorrow too, sweeping its arms forward, trying to grab Hela.

All their crying, mixed and pierced the night in a great wail of sadness, fear and lost.

The shadow cover her completely now, blocking out the moon and casting her into murky darkness.

The Goddess sniffed, bowing her head over the apples more, her tears dripping onto their shiny red surface.

She was not ready for this.

She was not ready to lose these precious fruit, she wanted to keep them.

The bear could not have them back! They were hers! The moon gave them to her! Hers!

Rage and fury began to bubble up and replace the fear.

The half dead woman felt the back of her hood get snagged as the bear’s claw finally caught her. She started to spin around to face her fate.

Anger latched onto her however, she would protect her fruit!

She turned to face the scary bear as it pulled her cloak from her form.

These were her apples! Hers! She deserved them! _HERS!_

She had only just faced the terrifying huge bear, with its clawed large arms raised high in readied attack!

Then suddenly everything went black!

….

….

….

….

….

She had finally arrived home safely.

Her home, sweet home.

She sighed gently in relief smiling at the warm golden room before her. The heat and light from the fire place chased all the cold and nightmares away from her mind. The dancing fire swished it hot tendrils arounds in a carefree manner, happy and playful, as it scorched wood and stone. The oranges and yellows it casted, bounced off the golden surroundings of the friendly room and frightened away the shadows.

The Goddess cradled her safe sleeping apples to her chest lovingly.

Hela’s hair was untidy and wind swept, particularly the grey left side that was matted badly and messy like a bird’s nest. Her legs were torn up with hundreds of small bleeding cuts, some still having a thorn or splinter in them. A cord of thorny rose vine was wrapped around her right ankle, digging in painfully and drawing more blood. 

Her dress bottom was destroyed, mere fluttering rags, dotted with crimson liquid that was probably blood. Mud was sprayed up to her mid thighs from her frantic sprinting down the small dirt path she had taken. Her cheeks bloomed in a violent red from exertion and exhaustion, though her breathing was calm and steady as though she had never ran.

The apples still looked beautiful, so beautiful though.

They were undamaged, still as large, shiny and pretty as before.

 _He_ suddenly stepped into the room, smiling gently at her. _His_ dark hair flopped slightly, needing a slight trim. _His_ pale skin glowed softly in the light of her home. _His_ green eyes looked at her lovingly, though the goddess was positive she was a state, matching the jade tunic _He_ had on.

She smiled back, breathing out a sigh of happiness at the sight of him.

“Father…”

Loki approached her smiling, until he glanced down to see what she held in her arms.

Suddenly Loki’s face showed a troubled frown.

The Goddess glanced down in confusion, seeing her apples resting peacefully in her cupped arms. What was wrong? Was it her appearance? Surely it could not be her apples. They should make him very happy to see them.

However he only looked very sad instead.

Hela felt perplexed at her father’s reaction to her new fruits. He stepped to her side as though cautious, he truly looked pained seeing her like this. The God of Mischief looked almost regretful as he slowly began to speak in a soothing tone.

His infamous silver tongue spoke carefully and gently, trying to calm her. But Hela couldn’t understand what he was saying. His strong voice floated around her head, buzzing with concern and trying to lull her into understanding. She couldn’t understand the words or at least their order.

“Listen, Hela my child, your children are already gone. They were never apart of this world.”

Children? Why was he talking about children? She didn’t have any, they all died before birth.

“I know you want a babe, darling, but you cannot take another’s. Please return these babies to their own mother’s side. She is surely very worried about her children and must be terrified to find them gone.”

He paused, looking desperately like he was trying to reach Hela but was wounded by the act. He continued though, forcing himself to finish his words, to get through to Hela.

“How would you feel if your precious children had been stolen by someone else?”

Loki once again turned her gaze downwards towards the apples and Hela followed his gaze.

She froze as she stared down at her arms.

Rather than two large red apples, there were babies. Beautiful, dark haired twins, barely a week old and sleeping peacefully. One sucked her thumb while the other scrunched up his fists. Their peachy pink skin was smooth and young, each with a tuft of hair at the crown of their heads. They nestled deeply into the white, moon coloured swaths of cotton. A baby girl and a baby boy. Baby twins.

Two babies…

Not two apples…

….

Hela screamed!

Not a physical scream but a mental cry that ravaged her crumbling mind.

**Ahhhhhhhhh!**

Her precious fruit was actually children!

She remembered back through the forest, still screaming high pitched in horror. She remember picking up two babies from the mossy roots of a tree, of holding them closely and grinning, of stealing them and running away, of being chased by the bear and holding the babies whilst they cried.

The initial mental scream of comprehension faded out and her mind was left vulnerable.

Unknowingly, the truth, with its large fangs and sharp claws ripped at Hela until she was torn apart. The guilt crashed into her, thinking of how she had kidnapped these young, young babes from their real home.

Though her remaining sanity threatened to be swallowed whole by her regret and horror at her acts, she still couldn’t help but think _‘These warm, tender fruits, I want to keep them no matter what!’_

She still loved these apples. They still were her happiness. She still couldn’t hand them over. Even though she had committed this grave crime, this terrible sin, with her own hands, she still held her two fruit to her chest lovingly.

Loki hovered by her side, concerned - Hela still stared down like ice in realisation of the unforgivable sin she preformed tonight. She whispered breathlessly.

“Gods, I cannot be forgiven for the terrible things I have committed…”

Her father placed a hand on her shoulder lightly, though her eyes still could not be torn from the sleeping twins. “You can still fix this Hela. If you return the children now before it’s too late.” He tried to encourage.

Loki still looked despaired, he mourned not being able to help his daughter more. If he could somehow help her have children, maybe this crime could have been prevented. Maybe Hela would not be in so much pain. Maybe this delirium would have not caused her to snatch another’s child.

The Goddess suddenly yanked her shoulder from his grip, twisting to face him with the babies huddled closer to her chest. She yelled out desperately, in anger, sorrow, remorse and guilt.

“It’s no use! Because, already…!”

….

The front door swung open heavily. When the two looked outside, they saw the full extent of Hela’s horrendous sin.

Just past the porch, lit up by the moon and the light from the door, laying in front of Hela’s home was a bear’s, no, a _woman’s_ corpse.

In her clutched out stretched hand was the grey hooded cloak which she had ripped from Hela in an attempt to reach her children again. Her red dress spilled out from her like a bloody rose, blooming madly. It was trimmed in white with a high collar, in a quite puritan manner.

Mud smeared up her clothing from her run after the Goddess. Her brown hair was messily cropped short and her hazel eyes were blown wide in shock. Her peachy skin looked gaunt and pulled too tight across her surprised expression.

Hela gasped startled and horrified even more, not turning to see Loki’s reaction.

The mother that laid murdered by her hand on the ground was no more or no less than her loyal _hand maiden._

Yet even then, the Goddess would still not undo it, was still too desperate to keep the children. She could not rue this terrible sin. They were her fruits. She loved them too much.

She walked forward slightly, tilting the babies so that if they woke, they would not see this bloodless murder scene of their real mother.

The Stewardess saw something by the corpse, held tightly by a pale dead hand. And in the hand maiden’s grip was a woven wicker basket, filled with trimmed clean white roses. And amongst those pure roses was two small glass bottles, glinting in the moon light.

_Each filled with fresh warm milk for Hela’s two young apples…_

Hela gasped in the cold air frantically as her eyes shot open. Her spine bolted up straight, disturbing woollen blanket that had covered her - left by the handmaiden probably.

The window in her room was still carelessly thrown wide open but little light drifted into the room. It was still deep in the night.

The Goddess blinked rapidly, trying to catch her gasping breath and calm her racing heart. Her body buzzed with energy as she shook herself from that dream, from that nightmare…

She laughed, almost crookedly.

So this is what she had become? So needy and depraved that she would have twisted fantasies of snatching babies from other mothers?

The image of her murdered handmaiden sat eerily on the top of her mind, floating like scum. It was haunting that such an insignificant woman, though recently a fair sized part of Hela’s life, could weasel her way into the dream.

The stewardess did not even know her name. She had never asked for it and the woman had died centuries ago. Whatever was on her record was forgotten by the stewardess and locked in a scroll, written somewhere in the vast Archive of the Dead. The Goddess could have always looked it up in the archive but never had such motivation for a one in a trillion average woman.

The half dead woman shivered, though it the temperature was surely warmer than earlier. She looked out of the window, opened to reveal the sky.

The moon was gone.

And for flickering moment Hela was glad it was. She had forgotten the old fables of men who had fallen asleep under full moons and became hypnotised because of their gazing.

 _Moonstruck_ was the term for it.

It could change people completely. Make them complacent, make them greedy, make them insane, make them forget who they were. There was a reason crazy people were called ‘lunatics’…

Hela was lucky that the mist had arrived back again. The celestial silver body was now buried under miles of mist and fog, high in the air.

With the relief that the Goddess had escaped with most of her sanity and the dread of what lurked in her mind, she rose from the fur covered chair and moved to the bed instead.

However, Hela was restless.

So for the rest of the night, sleep evaded her mercilessly.

And then morning came.


	10. Temptation and Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes to help you understand any realms or places that will be mentioned sooner or later.
> 
> The nine realms in ascending order down the Yggdrasil Tree -
> 
>  **Asgard** \- The Gods/Æsir (Not all Æsir are Gods. Godhood is something bestowed by Odin)
> 
>  **Vanaheim** \- Vanir (Sister realm to Asgard)
> 
>  **Alfheim** \- Light elves
> 
>  **Midgard** \- Mortals (And sometimes fae)
> 
>  **Jotunheim** \- The frost giants/jotun
> 
>  **Svartalfheim** \- Dark elves (banished from Alfheim in the beginning and evolved into a different species) and dwarves
> 
>  **Muspelheim** \- Fire giants and demons
> 
>  **Niflheim** \- the land of mist, ice and wild beasts
> 
>  **Helheim** \- The entire realm of the dead
> 
> Sub-realms/ other places
> 
>   **Valhalla** \- The dead who died with honour or in battle _(Sub-realm of Asgard, owned by Odin)_
> 
>  **Hel** \- The normal dead - died by accident, old age or disease _(Sub-realm of Helheim)_
> 
>  **Nifhel** \- The 'evil' dead - a place of punishment _(Sub-realm of Helheim)_
> 
>  **Náströnd _(Corpse Shore)_** \- Where the dead 'enter' Helheim. The dead souls move towards Helheim, trickling down the Yggdrasil tree and forming a 'river' of sorts. Hence why it's called a 'shore' in the area where they arrive.
> 
>  **Nornheim** \- Not a realm at all but a small land sat on one of the Yggdrasil's roots in an indent. Only the Norns live there, weaving and predicting fate  
>     
> These are places that will probably all appear in my story at some point. You don't need to memorise as I'll probably mention who lives where at the time. But it would be handy to have a rough idea just in case.)

# Temptation and Sin

When morning came, it was not kind.

Though Helheim was usually dimly lit, the pale ghostly light still burdened Hela's tired eyes. After that disturbing dream, she could not sleep. It was a horrible eye opener and something she did not want to repeat.

The Goddess wants a child but her _own_ child. She would never steal another's.

 _She_ wouldn't.

 _She_ couldn't.

It's not was _she_ wanted. _She_ wanted one of her own blood.

That's what Hela _had_ to believe.

She kept repeating these phrases as she emerged from her bedroom, grouchy and ill-tempered. She despised not being able to sleep. Though it had given her unnecessary time to ponder the symbolism in her nightmare.

The stewardess was no fool to believe that this was a harmless dream.

Some things were obvious - the bear was Motherhood. Bears, creatures of maternal devotion to their young, were common symbols of protective mothers. The idea that the bear, Motherhood, had chased her was an ill omen that sat depressingly heavy in her stomach. Being attack by such a symbol was never good, especially when you were desperate to be a mother yourself.

Her father - simple. He is the only strong male relationship in her life apart from her older brothers. Loki had also successively been both a mother and a father in his life time - a great example of parenting. (Or at least bearing children. His parenting could be somewhat lacking at times…) Hela had no partner or lover project into her dream as the 'father', so she had used her own.

Fatherhood. In her dream, Loki had tried to reason with her to give up the apples.

Another bad sign.

The black roses, tripping her and causing her to stumble… She paused in her walk down the hallway she was currently in and looked at the closest window. She approached it with grace and stood with her back straight and head tall as she stared out, onto the ground below.

Her 'garden' stared back, lifeless black glass glinting weakly, reminding her… A symbol of her past attempts at child bearing, trying to hold her back…

She grimaced in distain. Her dream was truly torturous, deciding to force this unpleasant part of her reality into her fantasy. She stayed there for a while, watching the still black roses. A symbol of Death…

Just like the black ravens that had also graced her dream. Those monstrous birds with their mocking caws that still echoed in her ears. Why was she cursed so to endure this painful reminder? She glanced to the heavily mist in the sky and scowled.

Odin had ravens too… Such awful birds suited him, Hela decided before turning away from the window and continuing her walk through her house.

As many symbols were obvious and easy to deduce, the nightmare still held many bamboozling things for the cunning Goddess.

Like the forest? Why a forest? There was none in Helheim itself. And the apples? Red apples to be particular. She felt that the colour was important somehow. And then her nameless hand-maiden? Why would such a plain woman impact her dream so?

These confused her deeply.

There were other smaller things she could guess at. Twins - a girl and a boy - maybe because Hela could not decide which gender she would prefer.

The large tree she had found the apples under? Possibly a reference to Yggdrasil?

A warm, golden home awaiting her - perhaps hinting at her young childhood and safety she had remembered in Asgard?

That was the irony of Hela. Though she cursed and hated the realm that had casted her out and called her monster… she still loved the light and warmth and beauty of the place. She had been raised to find the golden Æsir appearance as beautiful. That was why she had secretly hoped her own child might had blonde hair and bright blue eyes…

_How shameful…_

And though the half dead woman had had a restless night of thought, she had delved too deeply into her mind again that she had not realised that she had already entered the dining room. Which was why she jumped in surprise as a tall silver champagne glass of sweetened goat's milk was placed in front of her.

She refocused on what was before her and found her usual breakfast.

The dining room had only one window that faced west - so only light came through in the evening. Because of that, a large lantern hung from above, bathing everything in gold and heat. Other small lanterns dotted the room, lifting up the darker corners and limiting the willowy shadows. A large, chunky pale yellow lit candle in a pale green glass was in the centre of a wooden table, big enough for ten people. An emerald velvet cloth covered the grainy wood surface from sight.

The station in the centre, closest to the burning candle was set up for breakfast and Hela already found herself sitting in the plush chair.

Bread with various jams and honey were spread invitingly before her in silver and jewel encrusted dishes, and a wooden bowl of assorted fruit from across Yggdrasil on the side. Her handmaiden was just placing down a small plate of honey cure ham slices on a golden platter, incase her Mistress fancied some meat this morning. Just four thin slice, pink and fleshy with a wickedly sharp knife to cut away way parts she did not desire.

Embarrassingly Hela's stomach rumbled silently at the sight, having little to eat before bed.

She reached for a crusty roll, slicing it open and pouring a thick layer of honey, then apricot jam into its centre. The sticky yellow honey dribbled out and over the edges of the roll, dripping onto the golden plate below that was already covered in crumbs. The apricot jam was squeezed slightly out of the edge as the bread was pushed down on it; it tangy orange colour reflecting the surrounding soft lantern light. The beard, though soft and light in the centre, made the most tempting canopy of crunching sounds as the crust was broken slightly. It was prepared simply and very little thought spared to its appearance. Only she and her hand maiden were here so impressing was in the background of her mind.

When she ate it, of course she did it as she always did, neatly and with dignity. She did not show her hunger or rush for the tempting food to stuff it down her throat. She had her pride, even now.

Once she had consumed the roll, she reached for the tall, thin cup that appeared slightly golden in the ambient light and sipped the sugary milk slowly. She had such a sweet tooth, it was almost childish. But as a Queen and Goddess, she was allowed to indulge herself in this area at least.

The half rotting lady glanced to her handmaiden again and again as she drank. The dream made her mind churned and sapped on her concentration. She was not a dream expert and could not divine another's dream - but her own dreams should be within her own knowledge. Her intelligence was one of the few things she could boast of. The fact that her loyal servant had appeared and she could not say why, disturbed her thought process deeply.

Soon, she was just openly staring at her servant woman over the rim of the silver chalice, who waited nervously at the side for the Goddess to finish her meal.

"Mistress?… Art thou f-feeling nay well?" The servant fidgeted with her left hand ever so slightly; a nervous tick. The woman was concerned, her mistress seemed tired and distracted. And there was that worryingly dark mood that hanged around her like a murky grey storm cloud looming no the horizon. The tiny movement was caught in the Goddess's eyes, making them narrow. She emptied the cup and placed it down gently beside her messy plate.

"I am fine." She replied briskly, refusing to look away as she examined the woman more. She was average. She was normal. She was mortal. She was boring. She was dead. One in a trillion.

The maiden had appeared dead in the dream, murdered by Hela. True, she was dead in reality… But it felt different in the dream…

Absently, the daydreaming woman picked up a piece of fruit and planted her teeth in the side, taking a healthy bite. Juices and familiar flavour exploded into her mouth. She glanced down and glared at the seemingly innocent apple in her hand.

It was a glossy green because she preferred the bitter-sweet taste to compliment her already overly sweet breakfast. A red apple's flavour would clash with some of the jams. But it was close enough, that she dropped it onto her plate in distaste.

The maiden spoke again, quietly and politely. "Was there something wrong with thy apple? Would thou like a different one?"

"Nay." Hela snapped.

Why would she want more of this accused fruit?! She was highly considering to ban all apples and their variants from her dining table for the next few years or until she forgot her terrible dream.

The goddess picked up the silver knife that had rested by the place of ham. She fingered the blade, her expression set in a scowl. Her dream had haunted her night and now it dared steal her day too? Why her hand maiden? _Why red apples?_

"Red apples, my Mistress?"

The Goddess flinched in surprised, not realising she had openly voiced the latter question. It scored through her finger tip on her living hand, drawing a thick trickle of blood.

Hela glared at the woman, as she placed the finger in mouth, sucking away the blood. The maiden had hurried over, though both knew it was pointless. As Hela withdrew her finger, strands of translucent magic stitched the wound together. The injury disappeared without even a thin pink mark to prove its previous existence.

The maiden took the bloodied tipped knife away from Hela's plate and placed it down as far away on the table as possible. So it would not spoil the remainder meal.

"Aye. Red apples." Irritation seeped into the Mistress's tone.

"W-would you like s-some? I thought you di-didn't like them at breakfast. I a-apologise for not getting the~"

"I don't want red apples!" The half rotting Goddess flared up sharply. "I want to know why. What is the meaning of red apples? What do they represent?!" She asked, sweeping her hands up in a visible show of her annoyance over the matter. Her tiredness was cranking up her nerves and making her grumpy and edgy.

There was a heavy silence before a quiet voice drifted out.

"A-apples?… Any apple or j-just red ones?" Hela's face snapped round to face her trustworthy companion in surprise.

"Just red. Why? Do you know of their meaning?" The Goddess sounded incredulous that her simple servant might hold the answer. But hopeful too.

The hand maiden appeared bewildered, not used to such attention, usually just working quietly in the background. "In thee bible, spoken word of God, a red apple is thee symbolism of t-temptation and sin."

Ah, _Christianity…_

A pesky religion that cropped up hundreds of years ago and erased the memory of the Æsir they had called Gods previously from their short, fragile memory.

It was a pain to deal with; many Christians (and other religions) complaining and asking where 'Heaven' was as surely they deserved that. They would preach at her about how they would not be tricked into Hell by a 'Satan' and would remain righteous. It was a tedious job to explain each ande evert time that their God was a delusional fantasy, they were in Helheim (not Hell) and there was no perfect afterlife for their benign good deeds.

They would bristle and scream 'pagan' or 'demon' at her (rather harsh - even for Hela who was used to such unkind words) or get on their knees and pray or break down and cry as they realise their entire life was devoted to an imaginary man in the sky.

_Pitiful._

It was only later that they would realise, they do not need a divine over lord to reward or punishment them for their deeds. They would realise that morals do not come from a book but from a heart.

Though recently, that book which so many followed seemed to be leaving behind a bloodied history. Hundreds of thousands of people arrived, killed in Christianity's great crusades to wipe out everything else. For such an apparently loving God, there was such a large volume of hatred spilling out from his 'written word'.

She remembered vaguely that her handmaiden had been a rather devote Christian before her death. Though when Hela gave her the standard 'your-religion-was-wrong' speech (it worked with all religions - Jewish, Buddhism, Muslim and many more), the dead woman had accepted it with surprising ease, grace and a tender face that spoke of woe and bitter understanding.

"When God, our Father in Heaven, made the first man and woman, Adam and Eve, in thee garden of Eden, He also made thee tree of knowledge. It was a forbidden tree though. However, the devil, disguised as a snake, tempted Eve to steal and eat its fruit against thy Lord's order. Because of thy first sin, Mankind has been cursed and riddled with sin ever since…. Thee fruit was apparently a red apple. We were taught that thee red apple is known as thy Forbidden Fruit and is thee symbol of temptation, thee First Sin, Eve's fall and thee beginning of Man's evils…" She recited the knowledge, un-stuttering as if used to saying this information. The servant's brow twitched as if recalling a bad memory, though she did try to keep her face as blank as possible.

Hela blinked at the brief story. "On Midgard, red apples symbolise temptation and sin?"

"Aye, Mistress. We believe that it is a terrible fruit, thee start of our sin. If Eve had not been tempted by thee red fruit and stolen it then…" She trailed off, despondently.

"Midgardians certainly think of odd religions…" The handmaiden flinched in memory of her previous faith. "Believing a whole race's evils can be traced back to one woman eating one stolen fruit… For just simple knowledge and understanding? T'is ridiculous. T'is ignorant. No wonder, you do not remember Yggdrasil. Your minds are full of these foolish tales."

The servant woman bowed her head, looking down-crested. "Aye, Mistress…. T'is true…"

Hela gave a brief glance at the hand-maiden's sad expression. She felt an unfamiliar tug of guilt and irritably swatted it away.

Though she did try to offer some words of comfort in the end. "I'm sure it made sense at the time. T'is not your fault that your realm has forgotten the truth. You were merely grabbing at a sweet lie to comfort your short life. T'is not wrong to look to a false belief system for hope." Just foolish, Hela added silently. She was often terrible at offering comfort…

"Hope…" The maiden murmured as if caught up in her Christian past now. She nodded numbly before forcing a smile to her face. "Why did thou wish to know this, Mistress?"

"Curiosity and no more." Hela lied.

The idea that the red apple represented temptation fitted her dream correctly. She was indeed desperate for a child, giving into temptation would be simple at the moment.

But sin… The idea that her children being a sin…. What a cruel idea. Was her having a baby truly so terrible?

She just craved a babe to keep her company and form that sacred maternal bond with. Would that honestly twist the fates so badly? Do the norns despise her that much?

Hela stood with a sigh. She had best begin today's work before the light was wasted and Odin came knocking. Sending Loki previously had been considerate but she doubted the Allfather would show her two kindnesses so close to each other.

Her handmaiden had been a surprising source of wisdom today too. Perhaps Hela would award her somehow, though she know not how. She knew little about the woman who served her constantly. Even now, as the woman began lifting the emptied plates that Hela ate from, she knew nothing that the woman might like.

There was one more thing, she must still question her maiden about though. The burning question of why, in all of the nine realms, did her servant appear in her nightmare in such a dramatic manner?

She could not ask _that_ question though. Why would the servant know that?

So instead, the stewardess asked something much more personal and hopefully revealing. She would later blame this on her sleepless night and exhaustion.

"Were you a mother before death?"

There was a frighteningly loud clatter. The golden platter of ham, bounced off the floor, strips of ham falling to the dark marble floor. The handmaiden's eyes were wide with shock and her mouth waggled open. The hand that had held the platter shook slightly. In an instant the woman was kneeling down, frantically grabbing the fallen meat and piling it back on the plate. Her hazel eyes were blown wide in panic.

"S-s-sorry, Mistress! S-so s-sorry! I j-just di-did not expect s-such a que-question! That I-I…" THe woman sprung to her feet. "I a-apologise!" She gave a bow, before forcing a smile. "N-no… I was nay mother…" Her free hand ghosted over her stomach briefly. "B-but I was p-pregnant when I died."

The blunt blade of painful empathy twisted Hela's stomach, making her feel nauseous. "I am sorry for the lost…" Hela muttered, remembering all her half birthed children… It felt strange to say such ironic and foreign words.

The servant forced a smile on her face. "I do n-not miss it, Mistress. I only found of its existence after I was d-dead. I do not mourn it…" The woman was half lying. "T'was better this way, me thinks." She admitted with an expression of distance longing.

Hela looked at her servant with a odd mixture between disgust and understanding. To not mourn a child? To easily declare that it was not missed or desired. It itched cruelly at Hela's temperament. Even if it was a partial lie.

"I am still sorry." She finally said, pulling up her cold facade again and evening out her voice into a neutral tone. She pushed her pity to the side, in favour of her icy attitude. "Clean up quickly. It will be work as usual." She said, clipped. She refused to let her exhaustion show any more. Or affect her…

She glided from the room, heading towards the Náströnd.

Náströnd was on the outskirts of Helheim, near the Gates of Hel. While Hela's mansion was the centre of the ever-growing realm, magic allowed her to enter and leave Náströnd through a small portal disguised as a simple door. It made her commute to work easy; considering that as more dead arrived everyday, Helheim's area grew to commode the growing population. The great stone walls were always moving and spreading out, taking more and more of Niflheim for itself.

No one had any worries that Helheim would over take the mist realm completely though. Niflheim was and still is the largest realm by far. Severval Asgards could comfortably fit in it with room for more.

As Hela entered Náströnd, with its high ceilings and gently sloping floor like a beach or a shoreline, she stopped in shock.

The room was filled to the brim as usual, the souls queued up and waiting anxiously for Hela's judgement, more always ready to be filed in from the river outside. They were separated off from Hela's area by magical golden thread as usual, where her high white throne towered over the ebbing and flowing mingle of dead people and sat at the front of the tremendous hall. Her half a dozen scribes, at small wooden desks by her feet, sat ready to write and store the records of the dead in the archive like usual. Many of them had their stubby feather quill out as if to write and were dripping obsidian ink over blank, pale yellow parchment. They too stared in shock though.

In front of Hela's beautiful milky throne, carved in the shape of a coiled serpent with its scales and eyes lined with gold leaf, stood a formidable being.

The being stood, shorter than Hela, surround by 4 disgustingly formed creatures that appeared as rats, lizards and other vermin like animals. Her purple hood covered her face and draped over her entire body, hiding it from sight. Her onyx hair curled slightly from the mauve hood, contrasting with the bright fabric. The synthesised minions stood in a square around her as if to protect the woman.

Silly. That being in the middle, the one that created them, was omnipotent. Hardly anything in existence could threaten her and certainly nothing here. And certainly not Hela.

The Goddess of the Dead stared dumbly at the woman, wondering for all the reasons in the universe, why would _Mistress Death_ visit her? And why today?

After her slightly fumbling entrance, Hela continued, trying to act natural as she approached her own throne. However she did not sit on it, not in front of Death. Though she was half dead herself and catered to the deceased, she was not ignorant enough to think herself equal to the Mistress. She was far below the universal entity, who all souls belongs to.

It was Death's hold on her that made her the ugly monster she was. It was this Mistress that stole her life so she had not enough to give it to a child of her own.

"Mistress Death" She bowed from the waist deeply. "What pleasure do I owe to you that you would grace my shore with a physical body?" Her smooth saccharine voice flowed easily from her tongue, though her gut twisted painfully. Hela did not offer a smile or any other forms of politeness to the being.

The closest minion to her hissed out, a half snake or lizard thing that was a mere puppet. Not a true living creature, though it mimicked one, as Death could not create life. It was one of the very few limitations on the being who could create and destroy anything in the universe at will.

"My Mistress wishesss to say that the Yggdrasil Tree has asked a favour of her. Death saysss, she has agreed and will aid you in bearing your desssired child."


	11. A deal with Death

# A deal with Death

“My Mistress wishesss to say that the Yggdrasil Tree has asked a favour of her. Death saysss, she has agreed and will aid you in bearing your desssired child.”

Hela’s felt her lungs drag in a sharp breath as her sore eyes narrowed. ”I see your Mistress still speaks only through her minions.” She spoke haughtily, raising her chin up through her back still hunched. She purposely avoided what the minion had spoken of.

“You dare insssult our, your, Mistress Death?”

“Nay… T’is only an observation.” Hela breathed out, speaking only loud enough to be heard.

She had no reason to anger this creature. She had no reason to fear it either; the snivelling little half life that was made to be disposed of once its purpose was done. Worthless, weak and no threat or importance to the Goddess. Still, she riled up the minion, though careful not to offend Death. It irritated her that the Mistress would usually not speak directly to her, still not even turning to face her, and used these pathetic faux mutts instead.

And that these personality lacking puppets would speak of _her_ child! Outrageous!

How dare such a low being that wasn’t even classified as ‘alive’ would address her as an equal _and_ mention such a delicate topic to her. But with the Mistress here, she could not easily strike and ‘kill’ them as she was fond of doing whenever they were sent to deliver a message. The Mistress never cared or notice that they were missing or destroyed. She just always made more of these horrid little things.

Hela turned to the hooded figure who remained passive in the middle as if not truly here at all. Which was true, Hela supposed. Like her doll for visiting Asgard, this attractive form of Death was only merely a physical marionette dancing and talking as Death would like in order to communicate. It must be “tough” be a universal entity that was omnipotent but spiritual.

“Why would you agree to this though? I would think that Death would frown upon the creating of life.”

“Mistress would like to remind you that even Death needsss life…”

“Aye, but there is more than enough life in the universe. Hundreds of thousands of babes are born every day and grow to produce even more babes of their own. It is not like Death to encourage this tilt of power in the balance.”

“One more would not make a difference.”

“Neither would one less. Tell me, Mistress Death, why would you agree? And how would you ‘assist’? Creating and bearing life is beyond your boundaries if I remember right.” Hela insisted heedlessly, openly demanding the answers. Though she spoke as if speaking to Death, facing the cloaked woman, the lizard minion was the only one who answered.

Death had not even turned to acknowledge her presence, facing off into the distance with hauntingly dark, deep eyes. There was a murmuring silence throughout the huge room. As the floor tilted down into the mass of humming souls, quietly watching the Goddess speak to the unmoving woman and occasionally whispering to each other. Many knew not who or what the hooded was, though most knew Hela and her powers. There was unrest from seeing the powerful Goddess be cowed so openly. The stewardess felt her teeth grit as she glanced at the mass. She was to be their Queen, decide their fate, judge their sins and give out their punishments. She should be a symbol of fear and respect to them; Death’s presence was tarnishing that.

“If you are to ‘assist’ me, answer my questions Death. How can you aid me, my Mistress, and why would you? T’is reasonable to ask.” She kept her tone light, deceptively polite but firm. She would not be made a fool. She would not get her hopes up. Death turned her head slightly toward Hela, those midnight eyes briefly locking with hers before the hood concealed them. A arm raised slowly, a pale hand peeking out from a purple sleeve as the wrist flick out, gesturing elegantly towards the door. Towards Hela’s mansion.

Hela didn’t spare a nod and just stalked towards the portal briskly, knowing that the Mistress followed after her. Her shoes quietly clipped off the marble floor of her home as she lead the way, the only other sound being the minions’ claws scraping and scratching loudly as they scramble after their Mistress and the Goddess. Death made no sound while moving, silent as the grave as was her nature.

Hela lead the group to a room that might be considered a conservatory, that lead onto the garden. She did not want the Mistress in her house, but also did not wish to exit into the garden, so this was the best compromise she could think of on such short notice.

The room had one huge window that took up just over half of a wall that looked onto the garden.

It was a mocking room to Hela. It was designed for sun to shine in and light up the room naturally, a very Æsir styled room for a gloriously sun filled realm. Utterly useless considering there was no sun in Helheim. It was one of the few features added by Odin’s design; either as a painful reminder or a happy reminisce of her mostly pleasant childhood in Asgard.

The room always gave her melancholy.

She ended up setting up a desk in here anyway; it had a nice view and sometimes she preferred to be gloomy whilst she worked. It was at that desk she sat at now, looking across the pale desk at the hooded woman.

A small throne, similar to Hela’s, formed, twisting out of the floor and bending into existence as Death made to sit. No gestures, spells or magic circles were used; one of the fascinations of watching an omnipotent being use magic.

The Mistress took a seat, unusually looking directly at Hela. The minions did not enter the room after their creator, hanging restlessly on the border of the doorway. Hela waited, her back to the window in her seat, not knowing what to do or expect. The scurrying minions at the door were grating on her patience, how were they to speak in the Death’s stead while all the way over there? She was busy glaring them down when a hauntingly light voice captured her attention.

“Would you like a child of thy body, my Stewardess?” Hela turned back to Death, her shock hidden behind a blank facade, though her eyes did widen minutely. The voice was dark and wispy, the sound drifting through the air eerily. “Would you like to give birth, my Servant?”

Hela swallowed , leaning back in her chair a little more. “Aye, but your hold prevents me.”

“T’was a curse passed from thy mother. She had many enemies before she birthed you and your brothers. Her sons were to be monstrous animals and her daughters was mine to take. Though you were only half your mother’s, so only half mine.” The tone was almost whimsical, though ghostly. “Life can beget death, but Death cannot beget life.” The Mistress reminded, her plump dark lips barely moving. The hood fell foreword and hide her inky eyes again. It was a lesson Hela knew well. _“You cannot have a child.”_

The Goddess took a short breath, reining in any emotion before it escaped. Her face was glum, but that was the norm. “Why are you here then, my Mistress?”

The blackened lips twitched up, in a slight smirk. “I’ll release you from myself. I will allow you to bear a child, my Worker.”

A quick gasp and a flash of confusion. This was too much, too fast. The Goddess felt over whelmed, having difficulty with what Death was telling her. Release her? Why? “P-pardon my… rudeness. B-but please explain!” She hissed out, placing a hand to her head in stress.

Rather than answer, obviously only speaking when she deigned it important enough to, the hooded Mistress gestured to the doorway where one of the monsters approached. The scabby rat one. It bowed lowly to its creator, before turning to the Goddess without bowing.

“My Mistress wishes me to explain in her place. My Mistress.” It bared its elongated teeth in a ghastly grin. “Death cannot beget life and you do not even have enough life for your own body, never mind giving some to an offspring. Not while half of you belongs to our Mistress. Yggdrasil has agreed to give you the life for you child. However, until Death releases her property, you have no proper body to hold the thing.” Hela glared when the filthy little monster referred to her child as a thing. “My Mistress, she will ‘alter’ this state.” Hela turned to the universal entity, cocking a brow.

“Oh? And why would she do this? I believe I asked this before.”

“My Mistress does as my Mistress does. She need no explain herself to some lowly halfling.”

“Insolent filth. You are beneath maggots!” The Goddess snapped, losing her temper. These things were trinkets! The rat like doll was slung back against the wall with a sickening thud. “Know your place!”

She glared the unmoving creature down, black tar leaking from its jaws. The dark sludge smelled rotten and vile. She had broken it apparently. Hela stood, too frustrated to remain sitting.

Death remained passively stoic, the purple hood hiding most of her face. The spirit did not care about the minion, she always made more. “Why, Death, why are you offering this generous deal? What is your gain? What do you want in return?” The voice was strained as Hela fought to control her anger and force politeness into it.

There was a hush, the other minions were quiet now and Death was as silent as ever. After a painful pause, Death spoke a second time.

“Nothing.”

Soft spoken but filled with power, it knocked Hela back into her chair. The Goddess’s knees caved as she fell back into the chair, gaping at the all-powerful being. Odin’s booming voice commanded power, but Death’s whisper had power. Terrifying. It was truly terrifying.

Hela gulped slightly, thinking over this. None of this made sense. The tree would give her the life to produce a child and Death would let her by giving Hela her other half back. The tree’s motives were indecipherable, but in a way made sense. Yggdrasil was life, adding more would only help it.

But Death? A very different story.

Hela knew better than to ask why a second time when the Mistress answered personally. She remained silent thinking over her options. She saw no reason to say no. “I will consider accepting this benevolent offer, Mistress Death.”

A small smile tugged on Death’s blackened lips, sly and clever. “Be glad, my worker. Shall we discuss things?” A subtle hint that the Mistress would answer any of Hela’s questions; strange, tempting but forbidding. Death rarely had a reason for ‘small talk’. As an omnipotent beings who was everywhere at once, talking about the weather was a mute point.

Hela hummed leaning on her desk and hooking her fingers together. Now that she had almost agreed to accept, despite her reserves, the Goddess felt uplifted and hopeful. It was a simple uneasy joy that she relished in. “Is it really this simple? Will I really have a child? Beautiful and sweet and mine. Without any of my ugly points?”

The Mistress’s devious smile twitched. “My stewardess, the child will be yours and you.” The dark emotionless eyes revealed themselves from under the hood. “As the only parent, this will be an asexual birth. This child was be exactly as you are. Every thing you are, this baby will be; beautiful and ugly parts.”

Hela’s eyes widened. Her child would be inflicted with the same curse as her? She didn’t want that. She wanted her child to be free from this bane, to have a chance to be seen as beautiful in another’s eyes. Hela gritted her teeth. “You will claim half as this child, as you have claimed half as me.”

The hooded woman nodded.

“I refuse to allow you to have any part of my baby, of my child. Respect to you, Mistress, please take anything else but leave my child be.”

The Mistress remained untouched by the plea. “My servant, t’is not my choice or my idea. You know of how life’s diversity came to be. Asexual reproduction results in no difference between generations.” Hela flushed in anger, but bit the tip of her tongue to stop the retort. “Unless, you wish to partake in a second deal?”

The Goddess sensed a dangerous topic approaching, tensing further. She knew talking with Death would be a disaster, she just never predicted it would fall apart like this. “Such as?”

Death stood soundlessly, drifting over to the seated woman. The purple cloak billowed around her as she stood tall in front of Hela. “I will not take any part of your child but in return, I shall give the child a part of me.”

The air around the Goddess cooled. What? Why? Hela hated this situation. She knew too little about her adversary and even less about what the motives. This was spiralling all too quickly out of her control. Hela distantly wondered if any of this was ever within her control.

What Death was suggesting… what would that mean to her? What would that mean to her child? Is this why Death was twisting its very own nature to help birth Life? How can Hela accept this deal? Death and Life cannot coexist in one body. Her half dead figure was the result of a lack of life rather than a presence of death. It was Death claiming ownership and stealing her precious life that made her this monstrous half dying woman.

But Death wanted to inject death into a living being. Oh, how that would warp the universe! It would be an abomination of an existence, breaking laws that should never been broken. Just thinking of it was a vile idea. The Goddess thought Death’s desire was to maintain the balance of life and death in the universe, perhaps tilt it slightly in her favour. Was this one of Death’s attempt at pushing this balance closer to what she desired. However, this was too horrible. It was a sin of the highest taboo. How could Hela agree?

“Do you wish a child, my Stewardess?”

How could Hela agree?

“Yes, my Mistress, I agree. I accept both deals.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters will be quite short.


End file.
